What's in a Name?
by LilFlow
Summary: America's moved out to go to college. But it's not what he thought it'd be like. The landlord is lewd, a quiet man lives opposite, and then there's that moody guy downstairs. Plus the streets are filled with bike gangs! USUK AU.
1. 1 Moving

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter One_

_

* * *

  
_

The sky was clear as he stepped out of the removal van, carrying an overly large cardboard box. "So much for rain." Alfred laughed, hauling the box under one arm so as to rummage through his pocket and find the keys to his new apartment.

It was the first time the nineteen year old had properly been away from home. He'd been on holidays, of course, and had stayed round at his friends' houses, but this was his first time actually living alone.

He turned the key in the lock and kicked the door open, looking on a rather crumpled piece of paper for his room number and then checking the floor plan. Top floor. _Typical..._

Alfred dumped the box at the bottom of the stairs and returned to the van to get another, before picking both up and beginning his trudge up the four flights of stairs.

The apartment building was new and he'd been lucky to get a room. The housing agent had told him that the area was popular and flats were selling out fast, so he bought one quickly while he still could. At least, that's what he had been told. From looking around, he could tell that barely anyone was living there. Only two other cars were parked outside, out of the twelve spaces available, and there were still 5 flats up for sale out of the 8 that were in that particular building.

_Never trust an estate agent..._ Alfred sighed to himself.

He pulled the same trick on his door that he'd done on the front door. Fumbling with the key and kicking the door open when he heard the lock click. He shoved the boxes on a table that had already been delivered and descended the stairs again to bring up the rest of his belongings, thanking the stars that he didn't have much.

On his fifth trip up the stairs, Alfred noticed that one of the doors had opened on the forth landing, opposite his own room. He smiled at the knowledge that there actually were other people living in the block and turned to walk through his door, only to walk straight into another man. He dropped the boxes he was carrying, swearing loudly at the resultant smashing noise that came from within one of them, and turned to see what damage he'd done to whoever he'd bumped into.

The smaller man had fallen backwards into Alfred's room and was hurriedly picking himself up off the floor, his black hair slightly out of place, the surprise of being knocked over still present on his face.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Alfred rushed to help the man up, "Are you okay?"

The man smiled up at him, "I'm perfectly fine, don't worry." He straightened his shirt, and returned to looking at the flustered teen standing in the doorway. "Sorry for entering your room without permission. I was curious as to who was moving in." He was overly polite, considering how young he looked, Alfred thought. He didn't appear to be much older than himself.

Alfred started when a hand was held out in front of him, he'd been too busy thinking to realise that he was being spoken to. "Ah, right!" He hurried out, "I'm Alfred. Alfred Jones." He took the man's hand and shook it.

"Kiku Honda. Pleased to meet you, Alfred." He replied, shaking Alfred's hand in turn. "I live in the room opposite."

"I guessed." Alfred said, finally relaxing into the situation, and picking up the damaged boxes. "Your door's open."

"Ah yes, well, as I said, I was curious as to who was going to be living opposite me. There has only been myself and one other person living here until now, not counting the landlord, of course."

_Bloody estate agents..._ Alfred frowned inwardly at the lie he'd been told when he'd bought the room.

"Who's the other person?" Alfred asked, tilting his head to one side in a very child-like manner, something that he had a habit of doing unconsciously.

Kiku's brow furrowed slightly. "To be honest I'd avoid him if I were you. His name's-"

"Avoid who?" A long drawling voice emanated from the man who now had his arm drooped around Kiku's shoulder. His blonde hair hung around his shoulders and his smile was like a Cheshire cat's. "Were you talking about _moi_, Kiku?" The smaller man squirmed slightly, "That's not good, now is it? You should introduce me properly, like any friend would, _non_?"

"No, I wasn't talking about you, Mr. Landlord." Kiku sighed, shifting out from under the blonde's arm.

"Alfred Jones, _oui_?" The landlord smiled over at the stunned Alfred, "I've been expecting you."

"Uh, yeah." Alfred stammered, "I just got here. You're Mr. Bonnefoy, right?"

"_Oui_, that is me, but none of this 'Mr. Bonnefoy' nonsense, you may simply call me Francis, _mon cher._" The Frenchman winked over at Alfred, who didn't appreciate the gesture wholly, and Kiku sighed an exasperated sigh.

"Mr. Landlord, shouldn't you inform your new tenant of your household rules?"

"Ah yes! A most excellent idea, Kiku!" Francis clapped Kiku on the back, "However, I am meeting with a most enchanting lady soon, and so I must dash. I hope you would be so good as to give young Alfred the general idea for me." He winked at Kiku this time, and dashed from the room, laughing.

"I didn't expect the landlord to be so..." Alfred began, not finding the right words to describe the man who was now in charge of his accommodation.

"So lewd?" Kiku suggested, rolling his eyes. "You'd best get used to him. His only rule is not to disturb him after nine o'clock in the evening, in case one of his 'lady friends' is staying with him."

"Oh." Alfred was feeling even more angry at the housing agent by this point for convincing him to buy the apartment. He shuffled his feet, and moved towards the table where the boxes were stacked up, waiting to be unpacked. "So, the other guy living here?" He continued their previous conversation.

"Ah yes, that would be England. That's what he goes by, anyway. He lives downstairs with his younger brother. He has the foulest of tempers, so I'd do my best to avoid him, if I were you."

"I didn't see anyone down there when I got here."

"His brother's only twelve, so he'd be at school at this time. England himself, I don't know what he does. He's out during the day and doesn't come back until late at night on some days."

"Hmm." Alfred motioned, "Sounds like quite a character."

"Yes, well, just knock if you need my help with anything." Kiku smiled, and then proceeded to show himself out of Alfred's room.

* * *

Alfred didn't finish unpacking most of his belongings until later in the afternoon. He'd left the discarded boxes in a pile in the corner ready for him to take downstairs later on. He left a lot of things wrapped up in paper at the bottom of the chest of drawers that had been delivered the previous week. They were things his brother had packed for him, things he didn't particularly want to look at.

He heard a door slam downstairs, and, figuring that it was just Francis returning from his meeting, decided it was a good time to head out to the store. His refrigerator was unwelcomingly empty and he hadn't eaten since before he had left.

Grabbing his wallet, keys, and the empty boxes, Alfred shunted the door open with his hip, closed it again with a kick, and headed out of the building. As he dumped the boxes by the dustbins he noted that there was now a motorbike in one of the parking spaces. _Must be that 'England' guy, Kiku was talking about_, Alfred thought to himself, and headed off down the street.

It was a good opportunity for him to explore the area a bit. Yes, he'd been told that it was a good area, but he'd been told that by the same estate agent who had told him that the apartment building was almost full. One thing was apparent. The 'shop just around the corner' was also a lie, because it took Alfred nearly half an hour to find a corner that sold anything useful. Before then, all he had seen was a bar, post office and the train station which he had passed in the removal van.

It was at this point that he saw that same motorbike pass him. He glimpsed that man riding it. He looked to be shorter than himself, and quite skinny, but was wearing a helmet so Alfred couldn't get a good look at him. He was driving faster than he should've been down the road and was followed by another three bikes, which were going equally as fast.

Looking around, Alfred could see a number of other bikes parked outside the surrounding houses and shops, but thought nothing much of it.

_Must be the fad or something..._

It was getting dark by then and, not really knowing his way around yet, Alfred decided it best to buy what he needed and head back to the apartment.

* * *

"Crap." Alfred kicked the pavement.

The streets looked different at night, and he's inevitably gotten himself lost in the maze of roads he'd previously taken. Not only that, but most of the roads didn't have streetlamps, which left him wandering around in what was nearly complete darkness.

It was almost eerie, and Alfred hated it. He'd always been terrified of things jumping out from alleys and the like. It came from watching too many horror movies late at night with his brother and it was about all he could actually be teased for.

Every now and then he'd hear the revving of engines or a car would drive past. He nearly walked into people several times, who merely grumbled to themselves and continued on their way, while Alfred carried on wandering around in his hopeless attempt to find his new home.

Eventually, and thankfully, Alfred came to the end of a road the he recognised. The road itself ended in three separate alleys which forked off in different directions. "Finally." He breathed out slowly, his jumpiness starting to subside, replaced by his usual self-confidence.

He headed for the left-hand alley, remembering that it came out a couple of streets away from the apartment block, stopping only to praise himself for his 'amazing memory skills'.

That's when he heard it again. The revving engines. Only this time they were getting louder. Alfred turned on the spot as four sets of headlights turned on him from down one of the alleys.

The bikes screeched out of the narrow pathway, which they had all somehow managed to drive down much too fast without crashing spectacularly, and stopped in front of the surprised teenager, backing him into the corner.

"Hoh?" One of the riders chuckled, lifting his visor to reveal very slightly red eyes, "Now what do we have here?"


	2. 2 Alleyways, Bikers, and College

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Two_

* * *

England was tired. He'd spent the entire day working, picked Peter up from school and just when he'd thought he could get some rest the idiot had called, leaving him no choice but to grab his helmet and stalk back out of his apartment.

It had been an uncomfortably humid day, and England was grateful to be on his bike with a cool wind flying past him as he rode through the twilight.

He was met by his group around the corner from the apartment block, scoffing at him for being late, but laughing (_tsk... they're just like cats..._) all the while.

The night air was refreshing, their headlights flashed around the dark streets as they sped down roads and alleys, and they made sure that the made as much noise as possible. Everyone had to know that they were there and prepared to wake the dead if they had to.

It was then that England spotted him. The tall figure peering around the corner of the alley that they'd stopped down. The others had noticed him too; shoving helmets back onto heads and making smug motions towards the evidently confused bystander. The biker to England's right revved his engine and his bike screeched into life, closely followed by the other three, speeding down the alley toward the man who had backed his way into a corner, the light from the bikes flashing in his glasses.

"Hoh? Now what do we have here?" England's companion lifted his visor, red eyes flashing menacingly in the bright lamplight, "A mouse stuck in a trap?"

"He's hardly a mouse, Prussia." One of the others piped up, removing his helmet to reveal a slightly tanned man with brown hair and amber eyes. "He's taller than you." He laughed heartily at the other biker's expense.

"Shut it, Spain." Prussia growled, jerking off his helmet and running his hand over his head to make sure his almost white hair was in the right place.

Alfred stared at the men surrounding him. They seemed to be an unorganised bunch of riders, already ignoring the one that they had cornered and arguing between themselves. He'd normally have found this kind of scene funny, if he hadn't been the one who was trapped in the middle of the group.

By this point the third member of the bikers had thrown his helmet aside and was shouting at the other two men, evidently furious at whatever remark they had just made. "At least I'm not as full of myself as you are, Prussia!" His hazel eyes glared at the smirk on the first man's face. "I'm surprised you can fit your helmet over your fat head!"

Alfred barked out a laugh unintentionally, he just couldn't hold it in anymore. This was a mistake. The group, however strange they appeared to be, had turned their attention back to him, the three not donning their headgear eyeing him up dangerously.

"You got a problem, blondie?" The third said, his brown hair flopping over his eyes.

"Now, now, Romano." The second stepped towards the smaller man, "Don't be rude." He hung his arm around Romano's shoulder, reminding Alfred of Francis's antics earlier in the day. "After all, he is a guest in our alley."

"An unwelcome guest." The first's lip curled around the words.

Alfred took this as his cue to leave, "W-well then, I should show myself out then." He tripped over his words, causing Prussia to collapse into a further fit of cackling.

"Oh, we can't be having that." He leant on his bike, smiling evilly over to Alfred, who'd backed further against the wall. "It just wouldn't be proper to just let you leave without a proper greeting." He pulled out a metal bar from his bike, propping it over his shoulder, smiling all the while.

Sweat slid down Alfred's cheek as he searched for an exit passed the four men. The one with the bar was getting closer.

"Stop it, Prussia."

The fourth man had spoken. His voice slightly muffled from under his helmet, but his accent was still evident. Alfred recognised him, slight in figure, not tall but not overly short.

He pulled his helmet off his head, sandy blonde hair falling back into a mess around his face, bright green eyes glaring out from under thick brows.

"Aww! You're no fun, England!" Prussia leant back on the bar, pouting over at the smaller man. "Can't I greet him? Just a little?"

"Look at him." England scoffed, rolling his eyes at his fellow biker, "Do you honestly believe he's worth the effort?" He glanced over at Alfred, who had relaxed slightly. His lip curled up in one corner and he raised one of his abnormally large eyebrows, "He's just a brat."

"Hey!" Alfred jumped up from the wall, "Who're you calling a brat?!"

"Well, only a brat would need to ask. And you're obviously younger than we are." England retorted, turning back to his bike.

Prussia was laughing again, something that Alfred was beginning to find annoying. Spain and Romano were also smirking unceremoniously over at him, making him feel like a kid being bullied for lunch money.

He glared at England, who was too busy putting his helmet back on to notice. Alfred was starting to develop a deep hatred for the man he'd just met, along with other three bikers that had accompanied him (_laughing_ _hyenas..._).

"Will you damn well shut up and get you arse back on your bike!" England shouted at Prussia, who was still giggling slightly at the insult Alfred had received. He complied, rubbing the tears from his eyes before hiding them behind the visor of his helmet. "And you," he pointed a gloved hand at Alfred, "watch where you're walking. If you don't want to be mugged then stay on the main roads." He looked to see if the others were ready, then hit the throttle on his bike, speeding back off down an alley, closely followed by the other three, one of which, Alfred guessed to be Prussia, was showing off horribly by pulling wheelies and driving much too close to the walls.

It was only then that the thought crossed Alfred's mind. _Wait... THAT was England?!_

* * *

"That wasn't like you." Prussia said removing his helmet once they'd stopped again. "Normally you'd let me bash them up a bit."

England leant on the handlebars of the bike, not replying.

"Something stuck in your pants?" Prussia appeared in front of England, his smirk overly evident on his face thanks to the shadows from the nearby streetlamp.

"Fuck off." England grumbled from under his headgear.

"What's that?" Prussia added oil to the fire, "I couldn't quite make out-"

"Fuck off!" England yanked his helmet off and threw it at the cackling man, who dodged it easily.

"Whoa! Calm down, dear!"

"Leave him alone, Prussia." Spain intervened. He leant in front of England, looking up into his scowling face, "You're worried about Peter, right?"

"You're brother?" Romano joined Spain.

England avoided looking at the two, while Prussia danced about behind them, deliberately trying to annoy England further.

"Go home." Spain smiled. "It's late, and we're done."

"But the boss-" England looked at Spain, the worry on his face made all the more obvious.

"Relax, mate." Spain clapped England on the back, "We've got it covered. Your bro's more important."

England looked between his two friends, still ignoring the third, the older of the two had his arm draped around the younger who had chosen to pretend not to notice. He made sure Prussia wasn't watching, smiled slightly at the two of them, and grabbed his helmet up from the floor. "Thanks." He said, pulling it back over his face.

"No problem." Spain stood up next to the bike, clapped his friend on the back and watched as he drove off down the street.

"You're a pushover, Antonio." Prussia punched the man lightly on the shoulder, taking note of the resultant glare he received from Romano, "So are you, Lovino."

"You just bully him too much, Gil." Spain sighed. "C'mon, we need to make up an excuse for the boss."

* * *

Alfred slumped through the door of the apartment building, dragging his bag of shopping behind him. The ordeal had tired him out almost as much as his hunt around the town trying to find his way back to the block. Climbing the stairs felt like climbing a mountain compared to earlier when he'd been carrying much heavier goods up them.

He turned the corner onto the fourth floor and almost walked straight into Kiku, who had been unlocking the door to his flat. "Ah! Oh, sorry." Alfred said, regaining his balance. He hadn't actually hit the smaller man, just startled him.

Kiku merely nodded, smiling slightly at the appearance of the blonde, "Are you alright, Alfred? You're covered in dirt."

"Yeah... uh." Alfred stammered, not wanting to offer an explanation.

"Did you get lost and run into trouble?" Alfred nodded, "I meant to offer to show you to the store, but I didn't see you leave."

"It's not your fault!" Alfred rushed, "I just have no sense of direction!" He grinned at Kiku, waving his bag slightly in his hand, "Serves me right for being a major space-case." His laugh was interrupted by the front door banging and someone groaning as they began to climb the stairs.

"You wait right there!" Francis's voice emanated from the ground floor.

Alfred stuck his head back around the corner to see what was going on, followed by Kiku, which Alfred hadn't expected and he jumped slightly when the smaller man appeared at his side.

Halfway up the first flight of stairs was a man with scruffy blonde hair, his back was turned as he faced towards a very disgruntled looking Francis, who's hair was slightly out of place and had a cigarette poking out from one side of his mouth.

"Here we go again..." Kiku sighed, leaving Alfred's side to lean on the wall next to his door.

"What's going on?" Alfred turned to speak to Kiku, who merely pointed back down the stairs toward the other two men.

"If you think you can disappear every night and expect me to look after your brother, you've got another thing coming, _mon cher._" The Frenchman glared up the stairs at the shorter man.

"You can't stop me from going out, damn frog."

_Hang on..._ Alfred recognised that voice.

"I'll increase your rent, England!" Francis shouted as England continued on his way.

"You know damned well that I can't afford that!" He yelled back down as he turned onto the third floor and disappeared from the stairwell.

"Just don't expect me to look after your brother!" Francis bellowed as a door slammed.

Alfred sat back against the wall, looking utterly shocked at who was living on the floor below him.

"I wouldn't let it bother you." Kiku said, standing next to him. Mistaking Alfred's expression to be aimed at the scene they had just witnessed. "They're always arguing."

"Oh... yeah, right. Okay." Alfred stumbled over his words, still stunned by England's appearance in the apartment.

"Is something bothering you, Alfred?" Kiku tilted his head to one side, looking at his new neighbour inquiringly.

"Me?" Alfred turned his puzzled look into a grin, "Nah! Nothing ever bothers me! I'm awesome that way." He declared, jumping up from the floor and giving Kiku a rather cheesy thumbs up.

"Is that right?" Kiku laughed softly, "Well then, goodnight." He nodded lightly as he made his way into his room, leaving Alfred in the corridor, confusion once again evident on his young face.

* * *

Alfred woke the next morning with the sun blaring in his face. He blinked, trying to dismiss the sleep from his eyes and reached around him to find his glasses. Shoving them on his nose, Alfred caught a glimpse of the clock. _Eight thirty..._ _wait... EIGHT THIRTY?!_

"Shit!" He jumped out of bed, pulling his clothes on and grabbing the first bit of food he found in the kitchen as he ran out of the door, making sure he had his keys and bag as he scrambled with the handle.

He ran down the stairs three at a time, nearly knocking Francis clean off his feet as he dashed out of the front door, leaving the Frenchman feeling nearly as disgruntled as he had the night before as he frowned after his newest tenant.

Luckily, Alfred had looked up the directions for one of his destinations before he had moved. The college he would be attending wasn't that far from the apartment block, just a couple of streets passed the railway station, close to the local school.

By the time he'd reached this point he'd stopped running, finding it much easier to take in his surroundings if he walked instead. The school was fairly big and accommodated both junior and high schoolers from what Alfred could tell from looking at the masses of children who were making their way through the school gates. He could've sworn for a moment that he'd seen two identical looking sandy blonde heads, the shorter entering the school grounds as the taller watched on. However, Alfred disregarded the scene and continued on his way.

The college campus took up an entire street. It was made up of several rather grand looking buildings that surrounded a small green in the centre. Alfred noticed a large number of students exiting the dorms on the left-hand side of the square and regretted not taking the offer to stay there as well. But he'd made the decision to stay off campus, and he'd stick by it (_for better or worse..._).

"Oooh!" Alfred stiffened at the familiar snigger, "It's that kid from last night!"

Alfred turned to see the smirk plastered across Prussia's face as he walked towards him. "Relax, relax. No iron bar, see?" He indicated to the bag that he was carrying, "I'm not going to start causing trouble in broad daylight."

Alfred scowled at the man; he wasn't going to trust the guy that had threatened to beat him over the head with a pole only the night before.

"I never thought that you'd be a student here." Prussia smiled in response to Alfred's frown, "You just transferred, or something?"

"Yeah," Alfred said, not giving in to the other man's light expression, "second year."

"So you ARE younger!" Prussia laughed, then noticed Alfred shifting angrily, "Sorry, sorry." He held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm in the third year, with him." He motioned over his shoulder where Alfred noticed two of the others from the previous night. "Lovino's in the second year, though. I'm Gilbert, by the way." He held his hand out in front of him, grinning.

Alfred hesitated before taking his hand and shaking it. "The other guy's Antonio." Gilbert continued as they were joined by Spain and Romano.

"Huh? You're that guy..." Romano cocked an eyebrow at Alfred, wondering why he was suddenly shaking hands with one of the bikers who had threatened him.

"Alfred." He said, still not smiling as he let go from the handshake. "Anyway, I thought you guys were called-"

"Ah! Those names were given to us by the boss." Gilbert explained, "Only England uses his outside of the group."

"Gil," Spain punched his friend on the back, "do you honestly think that he's going to trust you, just like that?"

"Why wouldn't he?" Gilbert looked up at the disapproving man, smiling slyly. "After all, I'm awesome." He barked out a laugh and turned back to Alfred, who still glared at him cynically. "So what're you studying?"

"Literature." Alfred sighed, realising that this guy wasn't going to give up the conversation.

"Just ignore that idiot." Spain shoved Gilbert out of the way, and smiled in a way that Alfred found more trusting, "I'm Antonio." He didn't offer his hand to Alfred, and instead beckoned the third member of their group forward, "This is Lovino." His smile was bigger now, annoying Lovino greatly as he quickly batted Antonio's hand of off his shoulder, blushing slightly.

Alfred smiled with this. These two were much more trustworthy than the first member of their little team. They seemed more normal, more friendly. Especially now that they didn't don their helmets.

"How come they get a smile?!" Gilbert pouted, leaning against the fence.

Alfred laughed at the look on the older student's face. It was priceless. He looked just like an angry child. Gilbert cackled his laugh, showing off his ego once again.

"I'll get along with you for now." Alfred grinned, "Because that's just how awesome I am." He started to turn and walk away, "But if you turn a pole on me again then I won't be so nice."

Alfred left the group at the campus gate, making his way into the college.

"He's a weird one, isn't he?" Antonio smiled, looking down at Lovino, placing a hand on his shoulder again. The smaller man leaned into his touch, as they watched Alfred walk into the wrong building and being quickly directed away again, looking embarrassed.

"I know weirder." Lovino glanced up at Antonio, a small smile crossing his lips that only the taller man would notice.

"But didn't you two notice?" they turned to face Gilbert, "The way he carries himself. It's just like him."

In the background, Alfred tripped and dropped his bag on the foot of a student with shoulder length brown hair and was being scolded by the accompanying blonde.


	3. 3 The School Run

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Three_

* * *

The day had proceeded smoothly after Alfred's encounter with the (strangely friendly) bikers. He'd been taken to class by Toris and Feliks after apologising thoroughly for dropping his heavy bag on Toris's foot.

Toris was a friendly guy, Alfred had concluded. Sure, he'd been shaken by the upbeat blonde suddenly appearing out of nowhere earlier in the day, but he couldn't help but be overly nervous when first meeting someone, it was in his nature. And, after all, Alfred had soon proved himself to be "awesome!" (As he had put it...)

Feliks, on the other hand, was very possessive over Toris. He'd practically exploded when his friend had had the bag drop onto his foot ("Watch where you're, like, going!"). Alfred noticed that the blonde had painting his nails fluorescent pink, which just about summed up his personality. Short-sighted and _very_ impulsive. He just did whatever he felt like doing, Toris had explained over Feliks's giggles.

The two of them had shown Alfred around the campus, unsure what would happen if the clumsy transfer student were to run into someone else and accidently kill them (_If that was actually even, like, possible..._). Alfred got on with the two, though he preferred Toris, he seemed more normal, walking in between the two blondes and sighing at the remarks the one to his left was making, (_That's, like, the canteen. Don't eat in there though, 'cause, like, the food tastes like plastic._) Alfred almost thought that they were like a comic duo, and Feliks was the funny guy, and Toris the straight guy. Although Alfred's didn't find Feliks's running commentary of the campus nearly as funny as he did, giggling shamelessly at his own jokes.

These comments had continued even after the three of them had entered the lecture hall. Feliks just _had_ to describe every single person in the room, much to their annoyance. It was at this point that the lecturer had entered and Toris hurried to shut the gossiping blonde up, only to start blushing furiously at something that Alfred hadn't seen, leaving Feliks to erupt into a further, this time silent, giggling fit.

The day had ended in a similar fashion. Alfred waved extravagantly to his new friends and as he headed for the gate he noticed Feliks slip his hand into Toris's out of the corner of his eye, as they headed in the opposite direction towards the dorms.

Alfred made his way out of the gate and back down the road. The sun was setting later as spring progressed, the days getting longer and warmer. He was getting used to his new environment, being in a relatively quiet town compared to where he used to live with his parents and brother. Personally, he'd always preferred the summer, but Matt, his brother, loved the cool spring air before the weather got too sweltering.

He reached the school just as the kids were pouring out of the gates and heading off down the road or towards waiting cars. Alfred saw the two blondes from that morning, the younger girl meeting her brother at the gate and then turning to walk passed Alfred in the opposite direction. He chuckled at their matching bobbed hair cuts as the girl's older brother smiled weakly down at her, asking if she'd had a good day.

As Alfred turned to carry on walking he caught site of an unpleasant looking man leaning on the fencing outside the school. England carried the same scowl as he had the night before, his brows furrowed menacingly, scaring away any small children that happened to accidentally walk too close to him. His bike was parked by the side of the road with his helmet resting on the handlebars and another on the seat.

Alfred looked just as stunned as the parents who were staring at the young man, who was apparently picking someone up from the school, although he looked more like an angry kidnapper, waiting impatiently for someone to fall into his grasp.

Just as Alfred went to cross the road, so that he wouldn't have to walk passed the man that had insulted him the previous evening, a smaller, identical sandy blonde head appeared from around the gate. The boy stood, pouting in front of his brother, his hands on his hips, which reminded Alfred awfully of when Matt used to try and stand up to him when they were younger.

"Do you always have to look like such a grump?" The boy demanded, glaring up at his brother.

"It's my face, I can by angry if I want." England replied, turning a much more intimidating expression on the smaller boy.

Arthur looked up when another bike pulled up next to his, a familiar rider stepping off of it, his brown hair matted after being under his helmet. "Thought you'd still be here, England." Antonio smiled at the two brothers before crouching down in front of the younger to ruffle his hair, "You alright, Peter?"

"Get off Antonio!" Peter slapped the tanned hand away from him, but laughed at his brother's friend.

"Now, now." He ruffled his hair back into place, grinning back at Peter, "We can't have you taking that sort of attitude. You'll end up like grumpy-pants here." He motioned to England, who kicked him over. "See?" He laughed and stood up next to his friend. "We need to talk."

"What's wrong?" The blonde had abandoned his angry glare and had adopted a more serious looking frown instead. _Didn't he ever smile?_ Alfred had found the interaction between Antonio and Peter more like brothers than when England had spoken to his sibling.

"Cover story for the boss." Antonio muttered, glancing around. He was looking more nervous than Alfred had expected as he watched the scene, unintentionally listening to what they were saying.

"Thought so." England nodded, walking over to his bike and tossing the helmet on the seat to Peter. "But before we sort that out, get rid of the brat." He jolted a hand at Alfred, who started at the motion, suddenly realising that he'd stopped walking.

"Ah! Alfred!" Antonio waved at him, grinning madly. England stared at the motion in shock as Antonio rushed over to greet the startled Alfred who was clutching at his bag, trying to figure a way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into. "Why didn't you say anything, Alfred? I completely missed you standing there!"

"Uh..." Alfred stuttered, glancing between the fuming England, the confused looking Peter and the grinning Antonio. "I was just walking home..."

"Don't lie, idiot." England spat at him, "You've been standing there the whole time we've been talking. I'm not as blind as some people." He glared daggers at Antonio who had started to laugh nervously at his friend. "Since when did you know his name, anyway?"

"Ah!" Antonio turned to England, smiling confidently again. Alfred made a point not to underestimate the man's confidence. "He goes to the college, see?"

"No. No I don't see." England shot back, "That does not explain why you know the brat's name."

"We got to talking this morning." Antonio sighed, shaking his head mockingly at the shorter man, "Besides, he's hardly a brat, England. He's only a year younger than us."

"Whatever." England scoffed, leaning on his bike. "We've got bigger problems, anyway." He glanced over his shoulder at a third bike on the opposite side of the road. There was a girl sitting astride it, her blue eyes obvious from the gap in the visor even from a distance.

Noticing that they'd spotted her, she made her way over to the group, not removing her helmet. Her eyes darted between the four in front of her before she addressed England. "The boss wants to see you." Her voice was deep and confident, making the hairs on the back of Alfred's neck stand up.

"I need to drop my brother back at home first." England replied, beckoning Peter forwards.

"No. He wants to see you _now._" She emphasised that last part of the utterance, staring England down.

"I'll see Peter home, England." Spain smiled, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"No." She turned to Antonio, "You're coming too."

"But-" England sounded worried, Alfred noticed. His tone of voice had completely changed, it was high pitch and barely above a whisper.

"No buts England." She folded her arms across her chest; her blue eyes were ice cold. "The kid is perfectly capable of walking by himself."

"Yeah, I'm perfectly-" Peter began, smiling triumphantly at his brother before being shot a look so dark that he stopped and clutched at the helmet in defence.

"I don't trust the streets." England glared at the helmeted woman, "Not with the members of the group hiding out everywhere."

The girl breathed out indignantly, moving back towards her bike, expecting the other two to do the same. However England and Spain stood rooted to the spot, both still worrying about the situation they were in.

"I'll walk him home."

They stared at him.

Alfred clapped a hand over his mouth, realising what he'd just said. _Helping bikers! What was he thinking?! _He stared around him at the dumbstruck faces of England and Spain. Alfred knew he'd overstepped a line that he'd had no intention of crossing. He didn't trust the gang. He'd only mentioned the word trust to them earlier to get that egomaniac Prussia to shut up. And he wasn't any less sceptical of them even now he'd watched two of the members of the group get chewed up by the girl who was watching them from the opposite side of the street.

England's expression was a mix between utter shock and disgust. The brat that they had threatened the night before was now offering to help?! Had the world gone mad, or was this guy even stupider than he looked?

He looked over for Spain's support, only to see that his friend was smiling over at the other man. Scratch that. He was positively beaming at him! That answered his previous question – the world, had indeed, gone mad.

"I _knew_ you were a good guy, Al!" Spain clapped him on the back, laughing in relief, "See England, he's alright, isn't he?"

England grunted, still amazed at how his friend wasn't questioning the brat's so called trust. He could tell that he was wavering about the statement he'd just made. He was positively shaking from the surprise he had caused himself. He didn't trust the brat, and the brat didn't trust him. That was that.

"I..." Alfred stuttered, trying to correct the mistake he'd just made, "I'm not offering because I trust you guys!" He rushed out, causing Antonio to laugh at his most pitiful of efforts, "It's just that I wouldn't want the kid to run into trouble, not with you lot on the streets attacking innocent people!"

England saw his advantage. He could use the brat. It would be easy. He was so nervous that he wouldn't know what he was getting himself into.

"The people we target aren't what you would call innocent." He smirked, lip curling in one corner as he mocked the younger man.

"Wha-" Alfred stumbled over his words, "What the hell does that mean?!"

"Anyone could tell that you're trouble, especially when you're snooping around alleyways late at night." England formed his words perfectly, cornering Alfred. "Now, I suppose I _could_ extend some trust to you and have you take my brother home, but then, who on earth would want to trust a shifty looking brat like you?"

"England, what're you...?" Spain looked baffled at his friend's supposed change of heart, despite the man's pirate-like smile, which was as cold and jagged as an ice berg.

"And," England overlooked Spain's comment, "there's always the possibility that my brother would not arrive home safely, in which case, you would be much worse off." He paused, his smile becoming a glare, his green eyes staring down Alfred, "Because if that were the case, then I'd hunt you down and kill you with my own hands. So you'd better do a good job."

And with that, he swung his leg over the bike, pulled his helmet over his head and sped off down the street, leaving Antonio to hurry after him and the woman who had driven off after England, and Alfred standing gormlessly in front of where the bikes had once stood with England's little brother perched on the pavement next to him looking just as confused as he felt.

"Well then... uh..." Alfred turned to Peter, who had taken to peering down the street, evidently relieved to see the back of his brother. "Shall we go?"


	4. 4 The Boss

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 4_

_

* * *

_

England's mind was racing.

It never boded well when the boss specifically asked to see someone, especially when he sent someone out to actually retrieve said person. It sent shivers running down his spine, and from glancing at Antonio, he could tell that his friend felt the same; he was sitting rigid as a plank, his helmet slightly askew from its usual position. They were in trouble, and they knew it only too well.

For once, the thrill of riding wasn't there. The wind blowing past him felt heavy as he fought to maintain his grip on the bike's handlebars. It wasn't only the thought of seeing the boss that had gotten England nervous; it was what he had just done. He'd left Peter with that brat, who was a complete stranger and _definitely_ could not be trusted. And it hadn't been the thought of keeping Peter safe that had made him leave his brother with that idiot. It had been the prospect of making the twerp suffer. He hated the way he looked, standing there like he could do anything, so confident and cocky. He hated it. And on top of that he'd volunteered to take Peter home. But... that had been a rather _decent_ action, if England thought about it honestly. And Antonio seemed to trust him, even if they had been threatening the brat less than a day ago. It was ridiculous.

* * *

The entire gang had gathered.

_Not a good sign._

Gilbert and Lovino were standing over to one side, their faces covered by shadows, their stances obviously showing their discomfort. Lovino had pulled his scarf up to his chin and frowned down into it, not making eye contact with his other two group members as they joined them. Gilbert was staring at something in the corner, decidedly not looking at either his friends, or at the tall man, who stood in front of the four of them, smiling coldly.

The gang consisted of another ten people, most of who were hanging back away from their leader. The members that were considered closest to the boss were standing at the front (looking extremely unhappy). Every single one of them knew what was going on. They kept glancing over at the four men who had been separated from them and placed directly in front of the man that they least wanted to see.

"I've brought them, dear." The female biker rushed forwards to greet the gang leader.

"Very good, Belarus." He smiled down at her, his cold smile flickering slightly when she kissed him on the cheek. She stood beside him as he turned back to face England. "You have yet to greet the group properly, England, Spain."

England saw Antonio shudder back next to Lovino, green eyes wide, his tanned skin looked noticeably paler under the gaze of the boss.

"Our apologies," England tripped over his greeting, not meeting the other man's eyes, "I trust you and our fellow members have had clear streets, Russia." He looked up briefly, nodding quickly to the unnaturally tall man, before staring back down at the floor.

Russia continued to smile down at the group, revelling in the smaller man's discomfort. "Clear streets, yes, England. However," he paused, thinking for a moment, "I am not pleased, England. No, no I am not pleased at all." The smile stayed apparent on his face, however Russia's eyes told a completely different story. They were as cold as ice, their violet hue penetrating deep into the darkness of the shelter where they stood. It was no wonder everyone in the group was too scared to stand up to him, England thought to himself, very much shaken in Russia's presence.

England shifted back, what remained of the colour in his face drained away instantaneously. Russia had taken a step closer to him, his expression bore into him. That smile. The smile that said that he was angry, that he wanted to hurt something... someone.

"You didn't report in yesterday, England." He spoke softly, his voice soaked with malice. "Why didn't you come here yesterday?"

"I-" England began but he felt like his throat was full of plaster, dry and cracked.

"Because," Russia continued, "I imagine that the excuse Spain gave for you is not the truth." He shot the two of them a look so cold that England could have sworn that time had stopped. Everyone in the room was holding their breath and all that England could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat as it crashed against his ribcage.

"I had to see to my brother!" England rushed, trying to guess what Spain had said the previous night, what alibi he had provided for him.

"Many of us have siblings, England." Russia turned his back to the group, walking back and forth along the line of the other members of his gang, "However, everyone else reported to me."

"But Peter's only twelve!" Antonio rushed out, trying to justify both himself and England, "It's only natural to be worried about him!"

"I wasn't talking to you Spain." Russia swivelled around on his heel, looking Antonio in the eye, "However, if you have so much to say, then feel free to address the group." His smile grew wider, as if daring Antonio to speak out against him again, which he didn't. "I thought so. After all, it _was_ you who told England that he could leave early, wasn't it, Spain."

It wasn't a question. Russia knew exactly what had happened the night before, he just wanted them to admit to it. England could feel Antonio stiffen next to him. They were so far out of their depth now that there was no hope of escaping from the situation unscathed. That was just how Russia liked to work.

Russia sighed (happily). He leaned in closer to the group, his sickening smile wide. "Whatever shall I do with you four?"

Lovino was holding onto the back of Antonio's shirt unconsciously, as if trying to pull him away from Russia. It didn't go unnoticed.

Russia stood up to his full height. Shadows covered most of his face so that all that could be seen was his smile. "I'll just _have_ to teach you all a lesson." He held out his hand towards Belarus, who stepped forward, pistol in one hand, iron bar in the other. "Which would you prefer, Belarus?" She blushed and held out the bar, obviously overjoyed at being asked her opinion. "Very good." Russia took the bar from her and inspected it, slowly running one hand up and down its length and then turned back to England, "You _will_ watch this, and you will _never_ miss another meeting. Understand?"

England didn't reply. He stood transfixed to the spot as Russia turned to Antonio, his heartbeat growing ever louder in his ears. Gilbert had edged his way forward next to him and was shooting him comforting looks whenever he thought that Russia wasn't looking. It didn't help, but England appreciated the effort that his friends had made for him, even if it had ended up this way.

"Spain, because it is _your_ fault that your group is being punished, I think yours should be the most severe." His eyes were still hidden, but all four of them saw them flash as Russia moved, swinging the bar down.

"NO!"

* * *

Alfred was exhausted.

It had taken him half the trip home to explain to Peter that he knew the way to the apartment block because _he_ lived there as well. Alfred couldn't fathom where the boy got all his energy from, but had played along with him nonetheless.

Peter had spent the evening in Alfred's room planning how he would one day be the most feared person in the world (and making as much noise as possible) and Alfred had played along with his usual _"I'm a hero and I would never allow people to live in fear, because I'm awesome!"_ speech. He'd played this game too many times with Matt, only Matt had usually been forced to play the villain by Alfred and not by his own choice.

He had finally fallen asleep on Alfred's sofa while doing his homework, leaving Alfred in peace to rake through his own books, discarding the ones that he would not need the following day.

Kiku had popped his head around the door a couple of times to make sure everything was alright. ("I was worried because he usually comes to my room in the evenings.") Alfred had ushered him away with his trademark grin, claiming that everything was _"awesome"_ before Kiku had presented him with a meal for the three of them to eat while working.

"How do you find time to do everything?" Alfred had speculated over Peter's surprised cry when he had eaten the wasabi paste on its own and not enjoyed the resultant burning in his mouth.

"I'm a teacher." Kiku smiled, offering Peter a drink. "My whole life revolves around timetables."

"Aaah..." Alfred hummed, "That explains a lot."

But now the flat was quiet. Peter dozed on the sofa, his books slipping from his side, and Alfred lay on his front on the floor, picking through his many different books, and chucking the ones he didn't need in a pile on the nearby table.

There was a loud bang which caused Alfred to drop the large textbook he was holding and Peter to wake up.

"Ah! He's home!" Peter groaned, gathering his books.

Alfred stepped out on the landing and stood at the top of the stairs, expecting to see England having another shouting contest with Francis. But no. Instead, the two men were talking in hurried whispers. There was something slumped against England, which was also being supported slightly by Francis.

The floor creaked and England snapped his head up to look towards the source. He started when he saw Alfred standing at the top of the stairs, slowly making his way down the flights towards him and Francis.

"What the bloody hell-"

"Ah! Alfred! Thank god!" Francis cut him off, greeting Alfred warmly, before turning back to face the extremely confused and irritated England. "You should at least get to know who's living in the other apartments, _mon ami_."

"Shut up, Francis." England spat at the Frenchman, adjusting his load on his shoulder. "Help me carry him upstairs, will you."

It was only then that Alfred realised what England was carrying.

Antonio was slumped over the smaller man's shoulder, unconscious. Blood stained his shirt and dripped freely down him arm onto the floor. The colour had drained from his face and his hair was hanging loosely over his face.

England shifted uncomfortably under Antonio's weight, obviously having trouble supporting the taller man. The blood was soaking into his shirt from Antonio's injury, leaving a horrible crimson circle on his jacket.

"Wha- What happened?" Alfred stammered over his words, transfixed on Antonio's limp body over England's shoulder.

"None of your damn business." England spat at Alfred weakly, "Are you just going to stand there gawking, or are you going to let me past? This guy's heavier than he looks, you know."

Without a second thought, and taking England by surprise, Alfred hefted Antonio out of England's grasp and hoisted him over his own shoulder. "You look beat." He justified, looking England in the eye, obviously concerned.

"I just said-"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Alfred ignored the shorter man's protests and started walking up the stairs. "You're on the third floor right? Which room?"

England followed Alfred closely, making sure to show his frustration by stomping up the stairs rather than walking normally. "First on the right." He grumbled, glaring at the back of Alfred's head.

He unlocked the door and slumped inside, closely followed by Alfred. Antonio was laid down on the sofa. His tanned skin looked unnatural in its paler state. His brow was covered in sweat and blood which had seeped into his hair, sticking it to his forehead.

Alfred leant against the wall, looking around the flat.

It wasn't what he'd been expecting. What he thought should have been a room covered in piles of clothes and rubbish was actually immaculately clean. There were papers piled onto a nearby table with letters all addressed at an 'A. Kirkland', which he assumed to be England. There wasn't any sign of rubbish anywhere in the apartment and Alfred found it hard to believe that such a grumpy biker could actually keep his home this clean.

He was about to comment on the state of the room when he noticed England leaning over Antonio, slowly cleaning the blood off of his friends head and arm. His face was contorted in distress which shocked Alfred more than anything. As far as he'd been concerned, England had just been a pissy man who didn't know of any emotion except anger. But this proved that assumption wrong instantaneously. The shorter man's brow wasn't furrowed in anger, but worry as he bandaged Antonio's head.

Alfred found himself walking over to the sofa next to England and subconsciously placing a hand on his shoulder, making him start away and flush red, "What the hell are you-!"

"He'll be okay." Alfred cut him off, levelling himself with England.

England froze. He hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Alfred. He hadn't expected him to be kind and considerate enough to help with Antonio, let alone when he'd offered to take Peter home.

"Yeah..." He managed to croak out, looking back down at Antonio and wiping his bangs out of his eyes.

The two of them stayed there in silence as England continued to wipe the blood off of Antonio, and removed his stained shirt. England winced at the large gash running down Antonio's tanned arm, still spilling blood. He bandaged it up as best he could, trying to stop the flow, but was interrupted when the door burst open suddenly.

Peter stood in the doorway, his panicked face identical to England's, which made Alfred notice just how alike the two brothers looked.

"What happened?!" Peter shook as he caught sight of the bloody mass of material that had been Antonio's shirt.

"Get the fuck out, Peter!" England found himself shouting at his younger brother without meaning to and felt a pang of guilt when Peter glared back at him.

"Peter," Alfred stepped closer to the boy and crouched down to his height, "can you go back up to my flat and bring down the leftovers that Kiku put in the kitchen?"

"What're you-?" England tried to speak but was once again cut off.

"You haven't eaten, right?" Alfred turned to smile at England. It wasn't his usual stupid grin, England noted. It was softer, caring.

England caught himself staring at Alfred and hurried to looked away, angry at himself, his cheeks slightly pink. Alfred nodded, taking this as a 'no' and motioned for Peter to go and retrieve the food.

A groan from next to him brought England's attention back to Antonio. His eyes flickered and opened, wincing in the electric light of the room; they were bloodshot and bleary, completely contrasting to their usual warm glow.

"Ow..." He moved his uninjured arm up to his head, finding the gash in amongst his hair. "Guess that didn't go quite as planning, eh England?" He tried to smile up at his friend but stopped after seeing the scowl on the blonde's face. He was shaking, either from distress or anger. "Are you alright-"

"Am _I_ alright?!" England snapped. "You complete fucking _MORON_!"

Alfred leapt backwards at the England's outburst, _how could such a noise come out of such a small man?_ Antonio was obviously thinking along the same lines, Alfred noted after watching the injured man flatten himself against the back of the sofa, some of the colour returning to his face.

England proceeded to yell at Antonio while Alfred cautiously guided a highly confused Peter back into the room and into the kitchen to put the leftovers on plates for the other two, ignoring the shouts of, "You insufferable, loved-up git!" coming from the other side of the open-plan room.


	5. 5 Inside England's Flat

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Five_

_

* * *

_

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?!" Antonio had discarded the plate of food he'd been offered without so much as picking up the fork.

"It's just as I said." England dodged out of the way of Antonio's flailing, trying to get his injured friend to settle back down before he hurt himself any further. Alfred had strategically stepped back from the scene, taking Peter with him to a safe distance. "He ran away. Gil's looking for him now." He ducked from a stray punch, "It's hardly surprising! Lovino was terrified. What did you expect him to do when you got hit like that?!" He ate a forkful of his own food and gave Antonio a look so stern that he stopped his complaints. "Just eat, okay." England gave his friend the smallest of smiles and passed him back his plate.

There was a thud from outside and the door burst open, causing Antonio to nearly inhale his fork and England to jerk towards Peter protectively.

"Found him."

Gilbert stood in the doorway proudly. He was supporting his black and gold helmet on his hip and leant on the doorframe lazily. Lovino was standing behind him. He was as white as a sheet and his brown hair was a mess. He glanced guiltily up at the occupants of the room and then stared back at his feet before being dragged into the room by Gilbert.

"The idiot was hiding at his brother's place." He kicked Lovino's shins, nudging him further forwards, "When I got there he was taking his frustration out on Ludwig. Feliciano was going spare trying to stop him, poor bastard. He says 'hi' by the way."

England nodded in acknowledgment, expecting Antonio to do the same. However, the other man had sat up and hadn't stopped looking at Lovino since he had entered the room with Gilbert.

"Come on gawkers." Gilbert laughed, rounding up the others and pushing them towards the door to the next room, "Give them some space." He whispered to them as a he started to close the door, but not before Alfred had caught a glimpse of Lovino rushing to embrace Antonio and the discarded plate of food falling to the floor as Antonio met his lips with Lovino's.

Alfred squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light of the room. The four of them had crammed into what appeared to be a small bedroom, populated by just a desk, small wardrobe and a bed in the corner. Everything in the room was either plain wood or green and was in the exact same pristine condition as the living room.

"So," Alfred felt an arm drape around his shoulder, "what're you doing here then, Al?" Gilbert smirked at him. The lamp light exaggerated the dark shadows under both his and England's eyes.

"He lives upstairs." Peter bounded forward, knocking the albino's hand away from Alfred as he tried to gain attention from the older men.

"Oh? Is that right?" Gilbert smiled down at Peter, enjoying the chance to patronise the boy. "You know, you're looking more like your brother every time I see you."

Peter scowled, an action that caused Gilbert's grin to widen, "Well you sound more like an old man every time I see _you_." Peter retorted, wiping the smile off of Gilbert's face.

England sighed. He was exhausted from the evening's activities and wanted to sleep. However, that didn't seem to be an option with things as they currently stood. He slumped down on his bed and stared blearily around the room, wishing that the others would leave, but he knew that wasn't possible while two of his best friends were piecing things back together in the next room. Maybe he'd dreamt it all. That would have been a nice possibility, but utterly preposterous.

"Dude, are you even listening?" Gilbert's annoyed voice echoed into reality in his mind.

"What?" England's attention snapped back to the people in his room. Gilbert was glaring down at him while Peter looked triumphant in the background, and then there was Alfred, standing awkwardly by the door. His blue eyes stood out even in the shadows of the small room and it was only now that England realised just how piercing they were. It was as though they could see through anything.

"Oi! England!" Gilbert shoved his shoulder, "Fuck's sake, man!"

"What?!" England glowered back up at his friend, straightening himself back up on the bed.

"I said," Gilbert ran a hand through his hair, dropping his shoulders in an action that attempted to make him look more relaxed and not so stressed, "what happened after I went after Lovino?"

"Oh." England looked down at the floor, glancing briefly at the rip down his own trouser leg. "Well the boss; that sadistic bastard, he _knew_ that Antonio would get in the way if he tried to get at Lovino. He _knew!_" He glared at his feet, not wanting to face anyone else in the room. "He left Antonio lying there and completely smashed up his bike. I had to carry him back here on mine, and you know how bloody difficult that is." Gilbert nodded the affirmative, cringing slightly at the prospect of carrying someone, unconscious, on the back of one of their bikes. "Anyway, before I left, the boss, he said that if either Antonio or Lovino go back there then, well, they wouldn't be leaving again in one piece, I'll put it that way."

"Bloody hell."

England whipped round to see Alfred stepping forward out of the shadows, his gaze directed straight at him. He'd momentarily forgotten that the younger man was still in the room and cursed himself inwardly for this mistake. He'd just let some idiot stranger hear about _that_. What on earth would he think?

But... Alfred didn't look sceptical or scared. In fact, he looked surprisingly sympathetic.

"You guys have it rough, huh?" Alfred smiled weakly down at England and perched on the edge of the bed next him.

England reacted to this in two very different ways:

The first, to be expected, was that he leapt away from Alfred while glaring daggers at him. The second, however, very much shocked not only Alfred, but Gilbert as well. England's face turned a very deep shade of pink (resulting in Gilbert receiving a hefty punch for smirking).

"What the fuck do you know?!" He yelled at Alfred, hiding his blush behind unnecessary anger. "You think that you can just stand there, all high and mighty, and then push your false sympathy on us?! Well I've had enough!"

"Hey," Gilbert stepped in, trying to calm the infuriated blonde, "Alfred didn't do anything. It's not his fault he got caught up in our stupidness."

England's scowl deepened as he let himself slide down the wall to sit on the floor with his head hidden behind his arms. He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair, not improving its state in the slightest. Peter plopped himself down next to his brother, glancing between the three other men in the room.

"Look," Gilbert continued, "we need to sort this out. Not tonight though. We're all tired." Alfred was slightly taken aback by Gilbert's change in tone. It was as though his usual Cheshire cat personality didn't exist. "Still, it's a bit hard to do anything while we're all stuck in here." His sly grin returned. "What with those two being all lovey-dovey out there." He motioned towards the door, chuckling under his breath.

England didn't respond. He was completely different to how Alfred had seen him before. His angry persona seemed to have melted away, leaving someone who appeared to be extremely vulnerable. He wasn't weak. No, that was the last word Alfred would have used to describe him. Anyone could tell that even though the man was small in stature, he definitely had some strength behind him.

"Hey." Gilbert leaned in towards his friend, his expression softer again, "Hey, Ar-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" England's head jerked upwards, causing Peter to jump back in alarm. He was positively fuming. His posture had become stiff and angry. He stood up, glaring around the room but not making eye-contact with any of its occupants. "That name is dead! I'm not him anymore. I gave all of that up. I'm England! That's all I can be! Nothing else!"

"England..." Lovino stood by the door, holding it open so that Antonio could see inside while being propped up by two cushions. His expression was stern (if not slightly unfocused) as he looked into England's room, staring down the scowl his friend was still adopting. "I think that it's about time you cooled off." He smiled weakly, attempting to beckon the others out of the small bedroom to join him and Lovino. "Couldn't get me a drink, could you? I'm dying for a beer."

"Ah! Booze!" Gilbert perked up at the mention of alcohol. "Now we're talking!" He grinned and made his way to the refrigerator without bothering to ask England for permission.

England sighed and followed Peter out of the room (he was eyeing up the beer bottles dangerously). He didn't take the bottle Gilbert offered him, knowing what would happen if he started drinking; his past experiences with alcohol had not ended pleasantly, which Gilbert took great pleasure of reminding him of. Instead, he started to boil the kettle and placed a tea-bag in his mug, while Gilbert and Lovino continued the attempts of stopping Peter from stealing their drinks.

* * *

Alfred had been standing in the doorway to England's bedroom all the while.

He'd been taken aback by England's reaction to Gilbert nearly calling him by his name. He hadn't even considered that 'England' wasn't actually his name, the same way that the others weren't really 'Spain', 'Prussia' and 'Romano'.

He'd been revelling in this for so long that he's barely noticed as the others gradually got more and more drunk and Peter slowly fell asleep on a cushion that he was sitting on in the corner of the room after sulking from being refused the luxury of an alcoholic beverage. Lovino was trying to stop a drunken Antonio from jumping up to join Gilbert in a (very loud) singing contest, while the tanned man just laughed at his partner's struggles. What he did notice, however, was that England had not joined his friends in their activities, but was instead sitting at the kitchen table drinking a mug of hot tea and reading a book, looking as though he could not hear Gilbert and Antonio's extremely out-of-tune songs.

Taking his cue to leave, Alfred made his way to the door.

"Wait."

He hadn't seen or heard England move; Gilbert's new dance moves to couple with his singing had made sure of that. But when Alfred swivelled around the shorter blonde was standing behind him, now carrying the sleeping Peter, despite his small stature.

"Thanks for today." He hitched Peter further onto his hip so that he wouldn't drop his brother, "For looking after Peter, I mean. And for helping with Antonio." England looked absolutely shattered. Alfred could see his emerald eyes drooping from tiredness as he held up his younger brother. His voice was barely audible over the voices inside the room, but Alfred could tell that his thanks was sincere, if not slightly embarrassed.

"Hey, no problem." Alfred smiled as best he could, trying to reassure the older man, who was so obviously feeling uncomfortable with having to thank him. He turned to the door again but was stopping by a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not finished." England's brow furrowed in concentration as he spoke, not looking at Alfred. He could feel that his face had turned slightly red, but hoped that Alfred couldn't see due to the darkness of the corridor outside. "Look, I'm sorry." He blurted out unceremoniously. "I shouldn't have shouted at you earlier. I was wrong." He paused to glance up at Alfred's surprised expression. "I know you were only trying to comfort me..." He mumbled the last part so that Alfred struggled to hear him at all.

Alfred scratched the back of his head, slightly embarrassed by England's apology. He'd never heard of a polite biker before. And from his first encounter with the other man, he was the last person he'd expected to ever receive a thanks _and_ a sorry from.

"No sweat." Alfred gave England his best (confused) grin. "I've got college in the morning so I probably should get going."

"Ah, yes." England nodded, still not wanting to look at Alfred, for running the risk of being caught in those blue eyes of his. "But can I ask one more favour?" He rushed out, noting that Alfred was probably just as tired as he was, and wanted to get to sleep.

"Hm?" Alfred tilted his head curiously (_much like a child_).

"Well, with this lot being how they are, there's no way that they can do it, and I've got to work early tomorrow, so I'm a tad stuck for an option..." He prattled on, letting himself ramble unconsciously. He could feel the heat on his face and willed for it to pass without it coming to the attention of Alfred.

"What's up?" Alfred leant down to look at England's face under his sandy blonde bangs. It must've taken a lot for this cynical biker to ask a favour from the one he had previously labelled as a 'brat', which Alfred appreciated only too well. He knew that he didn't come across as the best person to trust with anything important; he was often classed as 'almost _too_ carefree'.

"Could you possibly walk Peter to school tomorrow?" England finally looked up. His flush would have been only too obvious to most people, but Alfred being Alfred, he just over-looked it, letting England continue with his ramblings. "Normally I'd do it myself, or ask Antonio, but with the circumstances, that's rather impossible. I just thought that, seeing as you have to walk past the school to get to college, it wouldn't inconvenience you too much. And Peter seems to like you too, I mean, you must've worn him out if he's fallen asleep this easily." He lifted Peter up again, emphasising his point.

Alfred held his hands up to stop England from continuing, sensing that he would have carried on talking if given the opportunity.

"Because I'm awesome," England scowled, as expected, "it's absolutely no problem." Alfred finished, laughing slightly at England's reaction to his first comment.

* * *

"Oh wow! You look, like, totally beat!" Felicks plopped down opposite Alfred at the table, followed by Toris.

It had been several days since Alfred had promised to take Peter school; and since then he'd somehow been roped into taking the boy home as well. Alfred had always thought that he had relatively high stamina, but this was nothing compared to Peter, who always seemed to full of energy no matter what time of day it was.

The first day he'd made the mistake of ringing England's doorbell and was met by a disgruntled Lovino telling him to "shut up because Antonio's hung over". Peter, on the other hand, was running around making as much noise as possible just so he could annoy his brother's friends even more. Gilbert had apparently left before anyone else had woken up and England had already gone to work, leaving the injured Antonio to be looked after by Lovino and Peter to be taken to school by Alfred.

It had been some time later that day when he'd gotten the message saying "Got to work late, can you pick Peter up? Sorry for any inconvenience." To which his initial reaction had been 'Who on earth texts using proper language?' Then he remembered giving England his mobile number the previous night, just in case something came up.

The next couple of days had run out fairly similarly (over-looking the events that took place when Alfred picked Peter up in the mornings, when Lovino partook in the almost impossible task of trying to stop Antonio from jumping up to answer the door). Lovino had started walking to college with him, deciding that he didn't need to baby Antonio so much. The older man's injuries were starting to heal and he could sit up properly without the aid of several well-plumped cushions, however walking was out of the question according to England every time the two of them spoke in the evenings when he came to collect Peter from Alfred's room.

It wasn't that Alfred found Peter annoying; he'd just never had to babysit anyone before. Matthew was only two years younger than himself, but had somehow learned how to look after himself a lot faster than Alfred had, and therefore ended up looking after his older brother rather than what was usually expected. This was why, Alfred reasoned, he was so tired after the events of the last few days.

"Sounds rough." Toris sympathised.

"Nah." Alfred grinned, chuckling to himself, "It's cool. They're just weirder than I thought."


	6. 6 On the OffHand

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Six_

_

* * *

_

"Ve, Lovino~" Feliciano stood in the middle of the room, looking happily confused over at his twin. "Are you sure you don't want any help?"

Feliciano was identical to Lovino in every way, except for his amber-brown eyes and distinct lack of any sort of stress. In fact, their personalities were so different that if they were to be judged on this alone, no one would ever have guessed that they were related, or that Lovino was only a few minutes older than his brother.

"No, Feliciano, I don't need help." Lovino rolled his eyes at his brother as he grabbed a pair of jeans from the pile he'd made and stuffed them into a duffle bag. "I'm perfectly capable of packing a few sets of spare clothes. And anyway," he turned to glare at the third person in the room, "why did you have to bring _him_ with you?"

"But Lovino," his brother's carefree smile was directed towards the tall blonde, who was standing stiffly by the door of the apartment, "I can't drive and Ludwig offered to help. He's really being nice! He's not a problem, right?"

_Yes he is..._

Lovino huffed and turned his back on the younger two and cramming more of his and Antonio's clothes into the bag.

A familiar stomping echoed outside the room before the door slammed open (knocking Ludwig into the wall, much to Lovino's pleasure) as Gilbert made one of his overly extravagant entrances.

"Hey losers! Oh, West! I didn't know you were here too!" He smiled at his brother, chuckling at the angry mumbles about his more violent nature.

"Hi Gilbert!" Feliciano went to greet Ludwig's older brother before being held back by both his own brother and his partner.

"Oh, you two are no fun." Gilbert teased, pretending to pout at Lovino's dark expression that always read as 'touch my brother and you die'. "Don't be such sour pusses."

"Don't take advantage of Feliciano, Gil." Ludwig's stern voice contrasted completely with his brother's joking; only causing Gilbert to scoff further about his strict behaviour, even though he was the younger of the two.

"Wouldn't dream of such a thing." He laughed, winking at Feliciano just to make sure Ludwig was that bit more annoyed.

"What do you want, Gil?" Lovino gave up packing and slumped down on the bed, leaning on the bulging duffle bag.

"Oh yeah!" Gilbert stopped annoying Ludwig long enough to remember why he had burst into his friend's flat without so much as a warning. "Got a call." He lowered his tone, not wanting their younger brothers to overhear their conversation. "No meeting tonight, so me and England will be sticking around. The boss ain't happy though, 'cause we ran off to help you and Antonio." Lovino darted his eyes up to look at Gilbert, who met them with an unusually serious expression, "Make sure you two stay out of their way." He sighed and put his hand to his forehead, "I don't think I can handle fending him off. Not when he's serious."

Realising that Feliciano and Ludwig were watching, Gilbert quickly changed his tone back to his normal sniggering, "Anyway!" He announced to the room, "Antonio will get lonely if you're away too long; and seeing as _I'm_ awesome and _you_ smashed your bike, I'll give you the honour of riding on my bike!" He glanced over at the younger two, chuckling at their apparent confusion, which was obvious even on Ludwig's usually straight face. "You two want some alone time, right?" Gilbert's evil grin appeared on his face, giving his words a strong wink-wink-nudge-nudge implication. "Well you don't wanna bother sticking around _here_. Hop it!"

Ludwig frowned at his brother's exuberance but didn't argue. Feliciano, on the other hand, took the opportunity to moan (_"Ooh~! I wanted to see the others!" "That's so unfair!" "Ve, Ludwig~ isn't that unfair!") _before being led out of the room by the taller man.

"You didn't have to talk to my brother like that!" Lovino protested, resuming his packing into the already full bag.

"But annoying West is fine?" Gilbert laughed, knowing of Lovino's dislike of Ludwig.

"Of course. Because he's a bastard who's stringing Feliciano along." Lovino shoved a couple more pairs of boxers into the bag and pulled the string tight. "Come on. I need to lock the door or Antonio will go spare thinking that someone'll break in." He grabbed his key scowled at Gilbert. "And there's no way I'm riding on your bike!"

* * *

"Can we watch a movie then?" Peter jumped up at his brother, not letting the disgruntled England into the kitchen for a much needed cup of tea, leaving Antonio to laugh from his position perched on one of the countertops.

"What? Peter I'm tired." England tried to get around Peter, holding him down as he dodged past and put the kettle to boil.

"But you're never at home anymore!" Peter protested, sulking at England's success of making his brew.

"Act your age, Peter." England rolled his eyes at the younger version of himself, "You're twelve for Christ's sake. I swear didn't act like that when I was you're age."

"Yes you did." Antonio interjected, chuckling at England's responsive scowl.

"It's not like I've got school tomorrow!" Peter huffed, pulling off his tie and discarding it on the sofa before folding his arms and matching his brother's frown.

England sighed. He'd just walked through the door from work after getting the call from Russia to say that the gang's meeting had been cancelled. Despite this relieving news, Russia had decided to add the sentence _"I know that you're helping them still, so you'd better be prepared for what happens next."_

Nothing the boss said ever meant well for him and Gilbert now that Antonio and Lovino had been forced to leave the group. They were cornered a lot more as a group of two. It was harder to carry out what Russia wanted, and therefore, harder to please him. And even though his face was always smiling, England could tell when the man was angry from the look in his cold violet eyes and the icy tone to his voice.

Russia knew how to scare people and made no attempt to please anyone save himself. His smile was false and dripping with malice every time England was faced by the much taller man. In fact, England thought that the only person who wasn't scared of the gang's leader, was Belarus, who had that strange and unjustified affection for Russia, which seemed to make him, intimidating as he was, the slightest bit uncomfortable.

"Fine." England said after a long pause. "But I don't care whether you've got school tomorrow or not, you're not staying up past eleven." He smiled over at his brother, who had jumped off the sofa and punched a fist into the air.

Antonio slid off of the kitchen counter to stand next to England, chuckling at Peter's mad rush to choose a film off of his pile in the corner by the television. "Lovino and Gil will be back soon. We can make an evening out of it."

England nodded, content that it was going to be a quiet evening, without having to worry about gang activities.

"Can we invite Alfred over?" Peter piped up from his position in the corner of the room, destroying England's peaceful thoughts. However, Peter was too excited to be able to deny him anything at that moment. He hadn't had the chance to have any proper fun in ages.

"It wouldn't hurt." Antonio cut in before England could comment, smiling down at his friend.

"Antonio!"

"Oh, come on!" He slapped England on the back, chuckling at the insults that were followed. "It's not like he's a pain. _And, _he's been looking after Peter for you." He unconsciously ran his hand over the scar that had been left by Russia's attack, "The way I figure it, we kinda owe him."

"Alright, fine!" England huffed, abandoning his cup of tea and stomping towards the door. "I'll go and ask him."

The door slammed behind England, leaving Antonio to laugh at his departure. "You know," he turned to Peter, who was still rummaging around the television, evidently looking for a DVD that had been misplaced, "you really know how to wrap him round your little finger." Peter grinned and pulled another disc out from under the TV stand, discarded it and started fumbling again.

* * *

England didn't want to see Alfred. He'd had enough of his apparent 'heroism' every time he had gone to collect Peter from the other man's flat. It was like having another Gilbert around, declaring their how _'awesome'_ he is whenever there is an opportunity. It was tiring enough having to put up with such speech from one idiot, let alone two, even if both of these idiots were actually decent people (overlooking Gilbert's gang activity).

England stood outside Alfred's door, pondering over the possibility of just going back downstairs and telling Peter that the other man was too busy and couldn't join them after all, but didn't like the idea of lying to his little brother, that and Antonio would see through him straight away and send him back up to ask Alfred properly.

"This is ridiculous..." He murmured and knocked on the door, cursing himself inwardly at his reasoning.

There was a bang from inside the room, snapping England's attention back to what he was doing. "Ah! Wait a second!" Alfred's voice emanated from the other side of the door amongst a lot of rustling and swears.

When he finally opened the door, England found himself flushing unconsciously at Alfred's appearance. He wasn't wearing his glasses and looked younger for it. His hair was wet and flopped over his face; save for the one part that always seemed to defy gravity. Alfred wasn't wearing a shirt and looked as though he'd rushed to towel dry himself and pull on underwear and a pair of jeans that he had not yet done up.

"Oh, England." Alfred had obviously been worried that someone else would be calling and relaxed against the doorframe. "What's up? Come to see how awe-"

"Oh, shut up. One 'awesome' moron is enough." England was seriously regretting not choosing to go back downstairs. He could feel his face heat up from Alfred's appearance (_why couldn't the git put a shirt on?_) and was seriously hoping that the designated moron had not noticed.

"You wanna come in for a sec?" Alfred's smile never left his face as he stood to the side to let England past, beckoning him into the apartment room.

England sighed and followed the taller man into his flat. The first thing he noticed was the amount of mess covering the floor and tables inside the room. _Didn't he clean at all?_ Alfred shoved some papers and books to the side and offered England a seat on the sofa, perching on the arm himself.

Before he sat down, England noticed that Alfred was wearing a hurriedly applied bandage on his side, obviously being used to hide something which was gradually appearing as the water that was left after his towelling session soaked into it.

"So what did you come for?" Alfred brought England's attention back and he sat heavily on the pile of papers that Alfred had previously moved.

"Ah! Sorry!" He hurried to move off the pile and rearrange what he had displaced, picking up the fallen papers from the floor. He caught a glimpse of one of them and stopped suddenly, confused by what he had seen. "The works of Shakespeare? You study literature?"

"Yeah, so?" Alfred took the papers from England and placed them messily on the desk next to him.

"Sorry, I just didn't think you were the type of person who was interested in that kind of thing." England apologised, standing to look at one of the textbooks. "I used to read this stuff back when I was still studying." He flipped the book open, smiling slightly from the memory.

"Nah, it's what my parents wanted me to study." Alfred laughed, relaxing back against the sofa watching England's brow furrow back into its usual frown. "If I'd had my way then I'd be doing something like chemistry and then develop the tech to give everyone super powers! Then I'd be a-"

"Real hero?" England questioned, sitting back down on the sofa, frustrated at himself for thinking that he and Alfred might have had something in common. "Don't be an idiot." He ran a hand through his hair, making it even more untidy than usual, and yawned as discreetly as he could. It had been a long day. "Anyway, I actually came to ask if you wanted to come down and watch a movie with us. Peter wanted you to come."

"Oh, right." Alfred hadn't expected England to ever invite him somewhere, even if it was just to watch a movie in the other man's apartment. "Sure thing. Let me just get a shirt." He pushed himself up and disappeared into the next room before reappearing with a t-shirt half over his head and his glasses stuffed into his jeans pocket.

England sighed and headed for the door, ignoring Alfred's grumbles that he couldn't find a belt. "Are you going to come? Or will I have to make an excuse to tell my brother?"

"No, I'm coming! I'm coming!" Alfred rushed, grabbing his bomber jacket and following England out of the door.

"I'd lock the door, if I was you." England said over his shoulder, "Even if you're only going downstairs, there's one person in this block who you can never trust." He motioned to the ground floor, "You never know what that frog might do."

"Fair point." Alfred grabbed his keys and latched the door before running to catch up with England, who had already started walking back down the stairs.

Coming up the stairs from the second floor, were Gilbert and Lovino, who were, naturally, arguing as loudly as possible, their voices echoing up the empty stairwell.

"I _told_ you I didn't want to ride on it!" Lovino shouted up after Gilbert from a couple of stairs behind him.

"And _I_ ignored you." Gilbert retorted, cackling at his achievement. "But you didn't have to kick me while I was driving."

"You forced me out of my apartment, carried me down the stairs and tied me to your bike! I think I was justified!" Lovino yelled, swinging the duffle bag dangerously.

Gilbert motioned a greeting to England before following him and Alfred into the flat, ignoring the insults that were being thrown at him.

"I don't see the problem, Lovino." Gilbert called over his shoulder, sniggering, "You ride with Antonio all the-"

Gilbert swiftly received punches from both Lovino and Antonio, who was smiling, but was giving off a surprisingly threatening aura. "Not in front of Peter, Gil."

Alfred noticed England give a small chuckle at Antonio's punishment and Gilbert's resultant whining. It hit him then that the smaller man could actually be cute- _No. No! Where did that come from?_

"Hey!" Peter raised his voice, evidently bored of the argument that Gilbert and Lovino had continued. "I _thought_ we were going to watch a movie!" He was holding a scrubby DVD case that Alfred could just about make out the word 'vampires' upon. He groaned inwardly before smiling at the twelve-year-old at sitting on the floor next to him, followed by England who decided to take his place in an armchair rather than sit with Alfred.

"So..." Alfred tried to hide his nervousness, "What's the movie about?" He scratched the back of his head out of habit, trying not to appear to be acting unnatural.

"Vampires going around killing everyone." Peter replied, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

_Damn..._ "Awesome!" Alfred swore that his enthusiasm couldn't be any more fake than it was at that moment, but he definitely did _not_ want to appear to be scared in front the group that he was currently sitting with, particularly the blonde that was watching him curiously from his position on his chair.

"Oh, not this one again, Peter..." Gilbert groaned as he thudded down on the other side of Peter and ruffled his hair, laughing as the boy slapped his hand away.

Antonio and Lovino took up the sofa as the older of the two tried to pull the other closer towards him, much to Lovino's dislike, which was followed by a small struggle between the two of them before Lovino eventually gave in and leant in towards Antonio.

Peter mumbled at someone to turned the lights out (to which Lovino obliged, in order to get away from Antonio) before turning the DVD on and lying on his stomach in front of the screen with Gilbert.

The film was fairly tame (as horror movies go), which was why England allowed Peter to watch it. It wasn't exactly what anyone would call scary.

And yet, Alfred was terrified. It had been running for less than twenty minutes, nothing had happened to the group of unsuspecting teens who had wandered unwittingly into the abandoned house on the hill, and Alfred was already jumping at the slightest change in the lighting. He was seriously hoping that it had gone unnoticed.

No such luck.

England had had to sit through the film so many times with Peter that he wasn't really paying attention to it. In fact, he was watching anything _but_ the vampires that had suddenly appeared to kill the first of the naive teenagers on the screen.

So far he'd watched Lovino slowly move closer to Antonio again, leaning into his tanned arm. Gilbert had taken to teasing Peter by tickling him and then pretending to watch the television whenever the annoyed boy turned to glare at him.

And then there was Alfred, who was shaking like a leaf, although he was obviously trying to hide his apparent fear of the bloody events that were taking place in the movie. He actually had to hold back a bark of laughter when Alfred jumped nearly a mile in the air when the vampires appeared on screen once more.

Enough was enough.

"Hey, Alfred." England nudged the scared blonde with his foot, getting the desired result.

"AAHHH!" Alfred literally jumped to the side, landing unceremoniously on top of Peter and Gilbert, much to their displeasure and Antonio's delight as he proceeded to burst out laughing at the shouting that ensued.

"Sorry! Sorry!" England stifled his own laughter, not wanting Alfred to realise that he'd done it on purpose when he was shoved aside by Gilbert back towards England's armchair. "I just remembered that I need to talk to you about something. You wanna come outside for a bit?"

"What? Oh... yeah, alright." Alfred stood to leave the room after England, relieved to have an excuse to get out of watching the film.

Alfred leant up against the wall in the corridor, letting out a deep breath, glad to be away from the killer vampires. "So, what did you want?"

"Oh, nothing." England actually laughed, a clear snigger showing on his face, "I just thought you would want to get away from the _scary vampires_."

"Hey, shut up!" Alfred interjected, blushing at the thought that England had noticed that he was scared and brought it to the attention to the others. "Everyone's scared of something."

"I just never thought that you of all people would be such a wimp!" England chuckled, rubbing his arm where Alfred had hit it slightly harder than he had expected.

"I'm going back upstairs." Alfred pouted, giving up his protests against England's unexpected snickering.

"Hey, wait!" England hadn't expected Alfred to take his teasing so seriously and subconsciously stopped the taller blonde from retreating back to his own room. "Sorry, okay?" Alfred was almost shocked to see a genuine smile on England's face. He looked so much younger for it, making Alfred forget for a minute that England was a member of an evidently dangerous gang. "Come back in? Peter'll get upset if you go right now. You don't have to watch the film if you don't want."

Alfred caught himself staring at England and quickly looked away. When he looked back the smile had vanished, a more exasperated look taking its place.

"Well, I don't wanna upset anyone." He grinned, trying to get himself back in character, "That just wouldn't be hero-like."

England scoffed, hiding a half-laugh behind his scepticism. He had to admit to himself (even if he didn't like doing so) that Alfred's smile was actually quite dashing as he stood further up the corridor, grinning away like the world had no troubles. And yet he could only think that the extravagant man was incredibly naive...

It was the shouting from inside his apartment that snapped England's attention back. He groaned and turned to enter back into the room (followed by Alfred), running his hand through his bangs in his latest frustration.

It seemed that from the very moment that the two of them had stepped out of the room, Gilbert had thought that it was the perfect time to crack out the booze, and was proceeding to try and turn off the movie (still showing the vampires chasing the lead-female), much to Peter's displeasure.

"Stop being so fucking pissy!" Gilbert shouted over the screams of the film toward the younger boy, pushing him away with his foot as his hands were full of beer bottles of which he was trying to hand to Antonio and Lovino.

"Then leave the TV alone!" Peter protested, thumping Gilbert hard in the shins.

England sighed and walked past the commotion taking place in his living room. Upon reaching his bedroom door, he motioned for Alfred to join him, glaring at Gilbert's new assault on his younger brother which he could see out of the corner of his eye.

England was holding the door open for Alfred by the time he'd walked over, carefully avoiding the television remote that Peter had thrown at Gilbert (and missed dramatically).

"No point in staying in the chaos." England jerked his head towards the others, where Gilbert was not celebrating his success of turning the movie off in between the strikes he was receiving over the head from the cushion Peter had now acquired.

Alfred rolled his eyes and nodded, his slight smile contrasting with the thin line that England's lips had become as the older man closed the door behind them in an attempt to silence the racket his friends and brother were making.

England's room was as immaculate as ever, although it did seem very empty with a distinct lack of any personal belongings, save an old book or two.

England had flopped unceremoniously onto his bed, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. Alfred noted that his thick brow was still furrowed as usual, and found himself wanting to see that smile again. England's face didn't look like it was meant to be frowning all the time.

Alfred caught himself yawning after watching England's attempt to stay awake. The smaller man noticed as well, and sat up to start rummaging through the drawers of his desk, pulling out a small packet of something and a couple of mugs before hitting a button on a kettle that Alfred had not previously noticed. It wasn't long before a flowery smell filled the room as England stirred the leaves of the tea and handed a mug to Alfred.

"Camomile tea." He said, holding his own mug up to his lips, inhaling the smell and taking a sip. "You look like you haven't been getting enough sleep. It should help a bit." A small smile crossed his lips and disappeared as quickly as it had come, "Well, it always has for me anyway."

"Thanks." Alfred nodded to England, kicking himself inside for wanting to see that smile again, and took a quick sip of the drink he'd been given. He choked slightly on the hot liquid, not expecting it to taste as it had, the milder taste running down his throat as he drank more than he had originally intended.

England moved to clap Alfred on the back to cease his coughing, but stopped himself when Alfred turned to look at him. "Are you alright?" He found himself retreating into the corner of the bed, leaning against the back wall.

"Yeah, I'm good." Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, still gasping slightly for air. He tried taking another swig of the tea, hoping the experience would be better than the last. England had taken to lying back on his pillow, obviously relaxed by the drink. "This stuff works, huh?" Alfred could feel himself getting more tired and was barely aware of the newly adopted drunken singing that one member of the group in the living room had now taken to. He yawned again, noticing England do the same, and laid back across the end of the bed.

Seeing Alfred do this, England leant forward to look at the taller man, whose glasses were pushed askew on the bridge of his nose. England pulled the glasses off of his face, thinking that Alfred was asleep, only to be taken off guard when he turned back after turning back to see the younger man squinting at him.

"You're pretty forward..." Alfred laughed through his nose, smiling weakly up at England's blushing face.

"Shut up, idiot." England pushed himself back up to the pillow, angry at himself more than anything for letting his subconscious get the better of him. _It was a brotherly motion..._ He tried to convince himself.

"Hey England?" Alfred mumbled, obviously half asleep.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you scared of your name?"

The comment had taken him completely by surprise. Leaving England to simply sit on the corner of the bed and stare in shock at Alfred, who had fallen asleep completely unaware of how much he'd shaken England.

Maybe he wasn't quite as naive as England had previously thought. There were only five other people who knew why he didn't use his name anymore, and they were all present in the apartment block, four of whom were in the next room. How could someone completely oblivious to his circumstances make a comment like that so easily? Did this man know more than he let on?

No... No, that wasn't possible.

He was just... too innocent for his own good.

England leant over to make sure that Alfred really was asleep this time. He sighed and moved close to the other man's ear, "Because I'm a wimp too..."


	7. 7 A Matter of Trusting

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Seven_

_

* * *

_

Alfred woke to find himself in a very green world and panicked slightly before realising that he had opened his eyes underneath a discarded duvet. Realising where he was, Alfred tossed England's bedclothes to one side and groped around on the desk to find his glasses where the other man had placed them the night before.

It was only then that Alfred registered the smell that was emanating from the next room. Burning. Something was definitely burning.

He exited the room in a hurry, worrying that the flat had actually caught fire, only to find a number of people sprawled around the living room. Gilbert and Peter, having finished their fighting, had fallen asleep on the floor rather unceremoniously, Peter resting his head on the cushion he had been using to pummel the albino with, and Gilbert using Peter as his pillow.

Antonio and Lovino were still huddled up together on the sofa, something that they had both gotten used to over the last few days. Alfred found himself surprised by the peaceful expression on the younger man's face. He'd only ever seen Lovino looking grumpy before then. He noticed Antonio's head move slightly and saw that his eyes were open and looking at him. Antonio smiled towards Alfred and motioned to be quiet with a finger to his lips, before gazing fondly back at his partner.

There was movement coming from the kitchen, which brought Alfred's attention back to the burning smell that had spread throughout the flat.

Sure enough, England was standing in front of the oven, cooking something that Alfred thought probably should have resembled bacon and eggs, but was now just a smouldering mess in the frying pan. Alfred yawned loudly (receiving a hissed "shhh" from Antonio) bringing England's attention away from his failed breakfast.

"G'morning." He said briefly and turned back to the hob, cursing under his breath as one piece of black bacon crumbled when he touched it with the tongs he was using to attempt to turn it over with.

"You want a hand?" Alfred inquired, completely bewildered as to how England could have turned even the eggs into a burnt mess.

"Don't bother, Al." Antonio called over, propping up the now bleary eyed Lovino onto a cushion before joining the two blondes in the kitchen. "I don't know why he bothers, to be honest with you. All he ever does is turn the food to ash."

"Shut it." England grumbled, emptying the contents of the pan into the bin. "I thought I'd be able to do it this time." He genuinely looked put out at his failed attempt of making the group breakfast, which had obviously not been the first time that he had managed to destroy what should have been fairly easy to prepare.

Antonio helped himself to a carton of orange juice from the fridge, pouring both himself and Lovino a glass and offering the rest of the carton to Alfred.

"You want some cereal or something?" England cluttered about, clearing up the mess he had made of the oven. "It's about the only thing I won't set on fire..." He added, mumbling in his embarrassment.

"If you're offering." Alfred chuckled, taking the cloth England was using to scrub the worktop and taking over the job while the smaller man retrieved the cereal and a pile of bowls. "Thanks."

Antonio had taken to holding Gilbert's nose to try and wake him up, greatly enjoying the struggling that ensued when the other man's red eyes flew open at the realisation that he could not breathe. Peter, on the other hand, did not find the experience overly funny when Gilbert threw his arms to the side, hitting the younger boy in the face.

"I don't have time for this..." England sighed, taking a last spoonful of his cereal before discarding the bowl by the sink. "I'm going to work." He announced to the room, leaving Alfred in the kitchen to collect his helmet.

"What?" Peter stopped fighting back against Gilbert to watch his brother, "But it's the weekend!"

"And I've still got to make deliveries." England answered Peter without looking at him, not wanting to show him the tired look on his face. "Clean up when you're done messing around."

England slammed the door as he left the apartment, leaving the rest of the room in a stunned silence.

"Wait a minute. England!" Gilbert broke the silence, running out of the door after his friend. Alfred heard the front door bang downstairs and turned to look out of the kitchen window, noting Gilbert catching up with the irritable blonde who was inspecting his motorbike.

"I should probably get going too." Alfred shuffled from his place in the kitchen towards the door, ruffling Peter's hair as he moved passed the boy. "I'll see you around, okay?"

Peter didn't move and continued to stare at the cushion he was still holding, a distinct frown present on his face (making him look all the more like his older brother).

Antonio clapped Alfred on the back, "See you at college, if not beforehand." He flinched slightly when he moved his injured arm, but hid it behind one of his warm smiles. "C'mon Peter, give us a hand cleaning up, or your neat-freak brother will have our heads when he gets back."

Peter threw the cushion back onto the sofa (or rather Lovino, who was sitting there) and retreated back into his bedroom, ignoring the concerned expressions on both Antonio's and Alfred's faces.

"I can stay to help, if you want." Alfred scratched the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders to try and relax them.

"No, it's okay." Antonio shifted his hand through his hair, looking between Lovino, sitting on the sofa, and the door Peter had just stormed through. "He'll be alright. You've got stuff to do, don't you?"

* * *

"Do you honestly have to work today?" Gilbert wouldn't let the subject die, much to England's annoyance.

"Yes. Now leave me alone." He tried to start his bike again, already expecting the engine to cut out almost instantly. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" He kicked his machine, wishing that for once violence would actually solve a problem for him, rather than causing one.

"But you're never around anymore!" Gilbert pulled the angry blonde away from his bike before he could get the chance to break it any more.

"I have to get money somehow!" He shoved his friend away, returning to his bike, deciding to actually try and fix whatever the problem was this time, rather than lashing out any further. "I need to go out anyway, or didn't you notice how empty my fridge was when you were going through it last night?"

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Gilbert leant against his own bike, wiping dirt off of the red paint-work.

"Better than being an ego-maniac." England hmmphed, ignoring the profanities that were shot back at him. "Oh will you just shut up and let me fix this thing! It's hard enough as it is!"

"Fuck it." Gilbert swung himself onto his bike, glaring at his friend as he pulled his helmet on. "I'm going home."

He sped off, leaving England to grumble about fixing his bike.

It had broken before and he'd been able to fix it then. So why couldn't he now?

The oil was fine, it had enough gas, and nothing looked like it was broken or cracked, so why wouldn't the starter work?

He gave up and slumped down on the ground, trying to decide whether to make the deliveries on foot, or to phone up the manager to say that he couldn't make it after all. It all seemed like a lot of effort for the weekend.

"You're not kicking the starter hard enough."

The voice came from behind him and England jerked around to see Alfred standing by the front door.

He'd gotten changed, and tried to tame his hair (leaving that one bit sticking up again).

"What do _you_ know about bikes?" England scoffed as the taller man made his way over, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to him.

"Oh please." Alfred rolled his eyes, laughing at England's comment, "I'm nineteen. It's not as if I haven't played around with my fair share of this kind of junk." He swung himself over the seat of the bike and stomped down hard on the starter pedal, revving the bike into gear. "See? Easy as pie."

"Shut up, git." England got to his feel, pushing Alfred out of the way.

"That's a fine way to thank someone." Alfred laughed, not taking the irritable man's words to heart.

"Whatever." He pulled his helmet on, revving the bike.

"Hey," Alfred tapped England on the shoulder, still grinning (_like an idiot_). "I was heading to the store; you want me to pick you up anything?"

England looked at Alfred through his visor. The taller man's smile was plastered to his face almost permanently, it seemed. It was surprisingly refreshing, England found himself thinking, compared to what he was used to, Antonio fawning over Lovino, who pushed him away unconvincingly, Peter being just as stubborn as himself, and Gilbert being Gilbert – the 'awesome' prat.

He felt himself flush and had to remind himself that this was the man he'd called a brat the first time they had met. So why was he being so friendly towards the people who had threatened him?

"Idiot." England concluded as the answer to both his and Alfred's question and sped off out of the car park, kicking himself inwardly for the feeling that Alfred's smile had given him.

* * *

"And then he left?"

Alfred had met Toris and Felicks in the town while he was out shopping.

He'd caught them just as Felicks was dragging his partner out of one of the street's clothes boutiques, shopping bags in hand, and looking extremely pleased with himself as he munched on a strange looking snack.

"Yup." He mumbled with his mouth full of burger.

"That's, like, totally rude!" Felicks commented, his mouth equally as full as Alfred's, "He just, like, left you standing there? Totally rude!"

Toris sighed as Felicks started to wave his fork around to demonstrate how annoyed he was at how their friend had been treated by some other guy.

"You need to be careful with the bikers around here." He interjected, dodging Felicks's spiralling cutlery, "They're nearly all involved with gangs."

"I know." Alfred nodded at Toris's concern, "And England's not any different."

He knew he'd made a mistake instantly.

Toris and Felicks both stared open-mouthed across the table at him, both looking a little like goldfish. The awkward silence was broken by Felicks, who, evidently, could not keep quiet for more than ten seconds. "Wait, wait, wait! Did you, like, say England? As in big eyebrows, always totally pissed off by everything?"

Alfred nodded.

"That's, like, really bad! Totally bad!"

"How is it bad?" Alfred couldn't understand their reaction. Sure, England was involved with a bike gang, and he was as grouchy as an old man, but he was a good guy. He looked after Peter, went to work and all that kind of stuff. So why did they look like he had said something truly awful?

"Look, Al." Toris cut in before Felicks could speak, "I know England. Not very well, but I know him. And you _can't_ trust him or anyone from that gang." He looked down at his plate, feeling all the worse for speaking against Alfred. Felicks took his hand under the table and squeezed it reassuringly. "I was in that gang."

Alfred dropped his burger. Now it was his turn to stare. "Y-you were?"

"He isn't anymore." Felicks spoke sharply, almost glaring at Alfred. "I, like, made sure of that. Even if he does, like, have the scars to prove it." Felicks unceremoniously pulled up Toris's sleeve, revealing a long white line running up the length of his arm. "That guy, like, totally loves to leave a mark."

That was something that Alfred could tell only too well from the state that Antonio had been in a few days back. It was unnerving to be told that he shouldn't trust the people he had just spent the week getting to know. It definitely didn't feel right to be told not to trust England, the man who had given him a cup of tea so that he could sleep better.

"Although," Toris pulled his arm away, hastily hiding his scar again, "England and his lot were picked up not too long before I left, and even then the boss didn't really like them. They were different from the others." He sighed and stood up to leave, "But that doesn't mean that they won't do the same things as the rest of the group." He strode away from the table, only allowing Felicks to say a hurried goodbye, and leaving Alfred sitting stunned at the table by himself.

* * *

"It's good to see everyone is here." Russia stood with his back to the group as always. He didn't need to look at them in order to intimidate, the very tone of his voice was enough, and he exploited this to the fullest of his ability. "I have a number of tasks for you this evening." He smiled, despite knowing that they couldn't see it. "For starters, Latvia step forward." A small teen stepped forward timidly, his mousy blonde hair plastered to his face due to the pouring rain. "Good." Russia turned to stare at the boy, his violet eyes boring into him. "I know something about you Latvia." He bent down closer to his face, "Something interesting." He stood up to address the rest of the group, "You may have noticed that our group has been greatly diminished as of late." there was a murmur of agreement, "Well, that is all due to our good friend Latvia here." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing it threateningly, "He has been reporting our members to the police, have you not?"

Latvia's eyes widened. He swivelled harshly, trying to break from the giant man's grasp but was held in place. His face had gone white, making him look like a ghost in his maroon jacket.

"So it _is_ true, isn't it Latvia?" Russia smiled, still holding the shaking boy still. "England, Belarus, I have a job for you two." Belarus strode forward proudly, only too glad to be chosen for the job at hand. England was not so pleased, knowing what was coming next. "Take him somewhere, and make sure he isn't inclined to come back." Russia practically threw Latvia down at the two, where Belarus took charge of escorting him away. "The rest of you may leave."

* * *

Alfred stumbled down the streets in the dark. He'd been out for a lot longer than he had planned after running into Toris and Felicks. What they had said about England had really gotten to him and he couldn't work out why.

Sure, it was strange to trust someone who had almost beat his brains out the first time they met, but England turned out to be alright, didn't he? He had put his trust in a complete stranger to take his little brother home from school, so why shouldn't Alfred trust him in return.

And what was so bad about him being in this bike gang, anyway? They can't all be as intimidating as that girl who had gone to meet them that one time. If Antonio and Gilbert were anything to go by, the gang could be quite pleasant.

But then there was Toris's scar and the wound that Antonio had received. That just proved that the boss of this gang wasn't someone who should be taken lightly. Only someone with a true intent to harm would hurt people that badly. Only someone with an evil mind...

That thought shook Alfred more than any of the rest of it. England was involved with a person who did _that_ to people. He tried to shake it from his mind but kept remembering England standing at the bottom of the stairs supporting the unconscious Antonio.

He finally reached lamp-lit street near the main road after turning yet another corner. Why did it have to get dark so fast?

The scene that he walked in on, however, was not what he had expected to see.

There was blood spattering the wall of the nearby building under the streetlamp and a long object leant up against it. There were two figures there, one lying on the ground, the other slumped against the wall.

Curiosity got the better of Alfred and he edged closer to the people. It wasn't pleasant. The figure on the floor was covered in blood, which had stained his mousy blonde hair crimson. There was a gaping hole in his right arm in the same shape as both Antonio's and Toris's scars. _He was a gang member..._

Alfred bent down to see if there would be any lasting damage to the boy. He didn't look any older than fifteen, which hit Alfred hard, he was so young! Too young to be involved with this kind of thing.

A stifled sniff brought Alfred attention to the other person, causing him to drop his shopping instantly.

His blonde hair was messier than usually as he hid his head in his arms, hugging his knees tightly. A knife was discarded a few metres away from him. Alfred stared at the familiar man, not sure what to think. He'd never expected to see England cry, even if he was trying hard to hide it.

"England...?" Alfred leant in closer to the distraught man, placing his hand on his shoulder. There was blood on his hands and face, which had been transferred onto his clothes. "England, did you do this?"

His face snapped up to look at Alfred. Shadows were cast over his startling green eyes, which had been made even more apparent by the addition of his tears, which had left tracks running down his face.

"I..." he choked, voice breaking, "I cut him..." He buried his face once more, not wanting to look into Alfred's concerned face, and those eyes which looked like they could see through anything. He couldn't lie to him. It was impossible. "I called an ambulance." He mumbled, "Be here soon. She got away." He wiped his face with the back of his hand, "She hit him with that." He motioned to the pipe which was leaning against the streetlamp. "No fingerprints. Wore gloves." Fresh sobs erupted from where he had hidden his face, "I didn't-"

Alfred pulled him into a hug. "It's okay." He squeezed the smaller man reassuringly, "I know you didn't want to. You didn't have a choice." England was warm in Alfred's arms, unusually so. "England? Are you running a fever? England?"

The sobs continued but England didn't respond. He slumped forward into Alfred's shoulder, his hair hiding his eyes, which had slid shut as his breathing hitched as he continued to cry even after he had passed out.

Alfred ran his hand through England's bangs, feeling his forehead to check for a temperature. He was definitely too hot. "We can't have you being caught for this..." Alfred mumbled, hoisting the unconscious man onto his back, careful to avoid touching the boy who was still out-cold on the ground, so as not to provoke any further bleeding. He picked up his fallen bags, adjusted England's weight on his back, and hurried to finish his walk home.

So much for not trusting them...


	8. 8 Doctors and Patients

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Eight_

_

* * *

_

England's head felt like it was on fire. He'd woken up in the dark, unaware of how he'd managed to make it back to his bedroom in the state he'd been in. He could feel the uncomfortable stickiness on his face where his tears had dried on his cheeks after he'd broken down.

Belarus had left him there after finishing her part of the job. No doubt that she had told Russia what he'd done after making the cut. What kind of gang member tries to stop the bleeding of a wound he had just inflicted? Not a very good one, that was for sure. He was going to get it in the neck the next time the gang met if Russia didn't hunt him down before then.

But then that question rose in his mind again. How did he get home? He couldn't remember anything after calling for the ambulance to pick of Latvia. Had it come? His mind was blank. Something kept tugging at the corners of his brain, telling him that someone else had been there. Someone who had held him...

A grunt at the end of the bed answered his question.

England started, seeing the floppy bangs of Alfred's hair drooping over his dislodged glasses. He was fast asleep, leaning with his face nearly completely covered by his arms on the edge of the bed, that one piece of hair still pointing proudly in the air away from the rest of his blonde locks. What could be seen of his face was showing a concerned expression even in his sleep. However, for a moment that kind look fractured and appeared to be panicked for a second before returning to peacefulness.

England vaguely remembered Alfred picking him up and carrying him home. He must've been heavy along with the shopping that he'd had with him. Although, Alfred did look like the type who was stubborn enough to lift a grand piano by himself if someone was mad enough to challenge him.

He leant over the younger man, inspecting him as his face strained into a pained look once more, which lingered for a while longer than it had done previously, making it obvious to England that Alfred was having a nightmare, and a bad one at that. The expression didn't suit his face. It made him look like a young child, not the nineteen year old that he was. But when he was sleeping calmly England had to admit to himself that Alfred was, though he loathed to think it, rather good looking.

Alfred's eyes fluttered open to see emerald green globes staring down at him. He smiled lazily at England's resultant surprise as he scrambled back up towards the pillow. He propped his glassed back into place on the bridge of his nose and stood up clumsily, taking note that his feet had gone numb as a result of kneeling on the floor while he'd been asleep.

"You feeling alright?" He said, finding his footing and flinching as pins-and-needles signalled the return of blood to his toes.

"Been better." England sighed, running his hand through his hair. "My head kills."

"Not surprised after all that." Alfred stepped forward, putting his hand on England's forehead (causing him to blush deeply), "You're still running a bit of a fever. Hang on a second."

He stuck his head around the door, addressing someone that England couldn't see, "He's woken up."

He returned to England's side, followed by a friendly looking man that England recognised instantly. "Good to see you back with us." The man removed his hat, placing it on his lap as he sat down on England's desk chair.

"Tino." England rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow at the man. "I should've guessed they'd call you."

"Yes, yes." Tino ignored England's sarcasm. "Lighten up for once, will you." He put his hand to England's forehead, nodding at his slight rise in temperature and then lightly touched the side of his neck, checking the grumpy blonde's pulse against the second hand on his watch. "You're still running a temperature and your heart rate is up a bit. You'll need to rest for a few days. And don't argue." He stopped England from interrupting. "You'll be no good at work in your current state. I'll tell Berwald to let Roderich know that you won't be in. You've been working yourself too hard doing all of this stupid biker stuff. Don't _argue_." He held England down against the pillow. "Rest."

England folded his arms, glaring up at Tino and Alfred, who was leaning against the desk. He turned away from the two, not wanting them to see his face as it sank, "How's Latvia?"

"Berwald's looking after Raivis." Tino took on a dark expression. "It's a good job you got me on the phone instead of someone else when you called, otherwise the police would've been there too. I don't know what you were playing at, doing that to him. His arm should be fine, but the amount of blood he lost through the wound on his head-"

"I didn't do that!" England spun around, panicked. "His arm was me but his head was..." he looked away again, "that was someone else."

"Well he should be fine. We'll look after him." Tino stood up, nodding to Alfred and stepped toward the door, "Take care. I'll be outside for a while if you need me."

He left the two of them in an awkward silence, England refusing to look at Alfred and Alfred staring at the door that had closed behind Tino. It felt like England was a mile away in his own world that no one else could enter into. There was a thick void between them. A gaping hole that signified their differences.

Alfred broke his gaze at the door, meaning to fill the silence that had fallen in the room. Instead he found himself staring at England, literally shocked into submission as he watched the older man shaking slightly, clutching the bedclothes. He appeared to think that Alfred left the room with Tino and had broken down as soon as the door had closed. Alfred edged closer to the bed, not wanting to surprise the crying man, causing him to lash out. He reached out, gingerly placing a hand on England's shoulder, expecting the flinch that followed. He tried to pull away but Alfred held him in place strongly, not allowing his grip to falter. His shoulder was thin under Alfred's hand, but not weak. England seemed to have a sort of inner strength that he could use when he wanted, but at this moment he was allowing Alfred to comfort him, to hold him steady as the tears ran down him face uncontrollably.

"Hey, it's okay." Alfred said softly, lightening his hold on England's shoulder.

England shook his head quickly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He hated this. The way that he could cry so easily in front of Alfred. He never cried in front of anyone. Heck! He never cried full stop. This whole situation had mucked him up. That had to be it. Otherwise he'd never be this weak.

Alfred felt England's posture stiffen, as if he was going to pull away even though he was still so obviously hurt by everything that had happened. It was too much seeing someone being in that much mental pain. Physical pain could heal; he knew that all too well. But mental pain could scar so much deeper and lasted a hell of a lot longer. It was then that the urge got too much and before he realised what he was doing and before England had time to react, he had spun the smaller man around and pulled him into a tight embrace.

England froze, his eyes wide has his breath hitched in his throat. "H-Hey!" He found his voice, "What the hell do you think you're doing, you pillock!" Alfred ignored his complaints, "Let me go!"

Alfred held him closer, running his hand down England's back, trying to relax the agitated man. He felt England stop pushing against his chest as his complaining stopped. He was hot from his fever, but not uncomfortably so. Alfred could feel the heat from the other man's cheeks radiate out further than his raised temperature. He smiled slightly, knowing that if England saw then a fresh batch of shoving would ensue.

Alfred was stronger than England had expected, so much so that it was impossible to fight back against him. He could feel the toned arms holding him firmly so that he couldn't struggle to get away and they were strangely soothing. It was like being held by someone he had known for his entire life, and yet this was Alfred, a man he'd barely known for a month. He closed his eyes, leaning against Alfred's chest, and allowed the tears to fall freely, letting Alfred's hand move casually up and down his back and through his already impossibly messy hair.

"You can't come in here! I won't allow it!" Francis's heavily accented voice could be heard even through the closed window.

Alfred left England to look down on the scene that was unfolding outside.

Francis was standing in the doorway of the block in his dressing gown, hair tied back into a loose ponytail, his arms folded tightly against his chest. The man he was speaking to was hidden in the shadow cast by the building, though Alfred could make out that he was extremely tall and dressed completely in black except from the white scarf he wore. He was accompanied by one other who was standing further back, completely hidden in the night's darkness.

Alfred glanced around to look at England, who, if possible, had become even paler. He was staring wide-eyed at the floor, gripping tightly to the sheets on the bed. Turning his attention back to the people outside, Alfred saw that the tall man had moved frighteningly close to Francis, only a few inches between them. His companion was guarding what seemed to be two motorcycles, which he hadn't noticed previously. _Gang members..._

Francis held his ground, though he was obviously shaken by the presence of the man facing him. "I will not have you tramping around my accommodation." Francis stumbled slightly over his words, unintentionally showing his nerves.

"I want to see England." The man's voice was pleasant but full of malice and even though he spoke quietly Alfred could hear him perfectly clearly from England's third floor window.

"Francis!" Gilbert joined the two, pulling Francis to the side and speaking hurriedly with the older man in a hushed voice that Alfred couldn't make out before both he and Francis moved back inside the block, allowing the man to enter, noting that the person by the bikes decidedly stayed behind.

"They're coming inside..." Alfred turned to England, whose attention snapped back to Alfred. He was visibly terrified of what Alfred had just said, his eyes as large as dinner plates (or so Alfred thought).

There was scrambling in the living room as the door to Peter's room opened and closed hurriedly. The voices which had been animatedly talking until moments previously had all hushed, most notably Antonio's and Lovino's had disappeared.

The apartment door opened loudly, signalling Gilbert's arrival with the tall man. Tino's voice could be heard next, sounding desperate as he tried to stop the man from entering England's room ("He's _ill!_ No, I must insist that you leave.")

"Hide." England moved suddenly, grabbing the back of Alfred's shirt and pulling him towards the bed.

"What-" Alfred stumbled backwards, taken aback by England's burst of strength.

"Shut up and get under there." England hissed, pushing Alfred down and under the bed. "Don't say a word or there'll be the world to pay."

Alfred could hear England move back onto his pillow, arranging himself under the bed covers to make it seem like he had been resting the entire time.

The bedroom door opened and someone moved inside, moving quietly inwards.

"No, please. Let him rest!" Tino's voice was strained as he tried to stop the man from moving any further into the room.

"If a member of my group is sick, then I must make certain that he will make a full recovery. It is a priority of mine." The man's voice was slicked with false concern, making it hard to tell whether he was actually serious about checking up on England. But one thing that Alfred had managed to find out from the hushed voice he was now hiding from was that this was the man that England and the other's had spoken so fearfully of. Their boss. A man who would inflict wounds upon a person without so much of a second thought.

Alfred heard the door click into place as the man shut it in Tino's face. The bed shifted horribly when a step was taken towards England, who had obviously attempted to move further away from his visitor. He could hear England's breathing get faster even from his hiding place under the bed and hastened to stifle his own. He didn't want to be found by the man who had entered the room. Nothing good would come of it, he could tell.

"R-Russia." England stammered, trying and failing to hide the fear in his voice, "I didn't except you to come." He pulled the bedclothes further over himself in a feeble attempt to protect himself from the threat that was edging closer to himself.

"Belarus told me that you had fallen ill." Russia's words appeared to echo through the small room. "That you did not complete your task to your full capability." Alfred felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a chill seemed the sweep over him.

"No, well I've been tired recently..." England trailed off, not meeting the gang leaders eyes as per usual.

Alfred tried to shake off the feeling of dread that had captured his mind. The situation was all too familiar to him. That man, Russia, reminded him of someone he had never wanted to think about again.

"They said you were running a fever, England." Russia mused, almost purring at the idea of someone suffering, "They said that you should rest." The smile on his face didn't match his eyes, which were hard and unblinking, "I'll let you off this once." The amusement had vanished from him voice for an instant, becoming cold and harsh for a split second, "This is your last chance."

And with that Russia swept out of the room as quickly as he had entered it, leaving a thick silence in his wake.

Alfred could hear Gilbert hurriedly trying to make some kind of excuse for something, ushering the biker towards the apartment door before it banged shut.

Antonio's voice could be heard next, emerging from Peter's room where he had been hiding with the younger boy and Lovino, "Is he gone?"

"Oui." Francis's voice.

"Good." Antonio sighed, his voice getting louder, "I thought I was going to shit myself when he turned up, jeez..."

Alfred turned his attention away from the voices outside the room and crawled out from under the bed, faintly noting the sound of the two bikes outside the window driving away. He stretched his arms out, glad to be free from the tiny space he had been hiding in. It was only then that he noted the sound of heavy breathing.

England was huddled under the bed covers, shaking horribly and practically hyperventilating. "Hey? You alright?" Alfred shifted closer to England's small form. He placed his hand lightly on the older man's shoulder only to have it jerked away abruptly. "Hey, man. It's okay, he's gone." Alfred tried his best to reassure England, slightly panicked by the state the other man was in.

"Go away." England muttered so quietly that Alfred questioned whether he had spoken at all.

He hesitated but chose not to move from England's bedside, thinking that leaving him alone in this state would be the worst possible option. "Didn't you hear what I said?" England raised his voice, pulling the sheets away from his face to reveal those stunning emerald eyes glaring at Alfred, tinged with red from where he had hastily wiped away his tears. "Are you fucking deaf? Fuck off!"

He shoved Alfred away from the bed, knocking him into the desk, only to become more agitated when the bespectacled boy held his ground in the room. "You're a bloody prat! You know that?" His anger peaked, "I told you not to get involved with us! I said that it was dangerous and now look!" England's voice broke with his last few words, trying to fight back the tears that were stinging in the corners of his eyes. "Why did you have to find me there?" He retreated back behind the bedcovers, "Why did you have to hold me like that?" Pulling the covers tighter around himself. "Why did you have to bring me back here?"

Alfred took this as his cue to carefully wrap his arm around England's shoulders, gently squeezing them to make the smaller man aware of his presence. England struggled against the hold of the evidently stronger man before giving up and leaning into the embrace slightly.

"You have no idea how stupidly naive you are, do you?" He sighed, looking up into Alfred's cerulean eyes. They were so deep England could have sworn for a split second that Alfred was hiding something much more sinister than he let on. He looked away again, choosing instead to stare aimlessly at his now clean hands. "He's going to take everything away from me if I don't do as he says..." He glanced up again faltering as he saw the expression on Alfred's face had darkened. _What was wrong with this idiot?_

He continued on his train of thought, not wanting to question the rather threatening look Alfred had adopted, "If anything happens, I just want Peter to be safe. You understand that at least, don't you?" If it was possible, England could have sworn that the remaining light in Alfred's eyes vanished as he turned to look at the wall. "Oh, never mind." He ran his hand over his face, wiping away any remaining tears from the corners of his eyes. "I just don't want to lose anything else..."

"And you won't." England looked up, startled by Francis's heavily accented voice suddenly appearing in the room. The Frenchman sidled into the room, frowning down at the two younger blondes, "Just as long as you get your act together."

"What's that supposed to mean?" England glared back at the landlord, instantly defensive.

"I just mean," Francis began, his eyes softening as he looked down at England, "I can't look out for you and Peter forever." He untied his hair from its ponytail, smiling sadly. "Come now, _cher_, the young doctor said that you should rest." He pushed England down onto his pillow, "Sleep." He turned to Alfred, who had detached himself from England when Francis had entered the room, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Uh... sure..." Alfred tilted his head to the side before following Francis to the door.

"Hey, Francis!" England sat up again a little too quickly and fell back feeling dizzy, "Don't- don't tell him anything stupid."

"Sleep." Francis smiled weakly before closing the door with a click and striding out in front of Alfred to lead the way out of the apartment.

* * *

Francis leant up against the wall, pulling out a cigarette from the box in his pocket and lighting it. He took a drag from the fag, letting out his breath slowly as his massaged his temples wearily.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Alfred couldn't bear the silence any longer. His patience had finally worn thin after the night's sequence of unsettling events.

"Ahh." Francis let out another stream of fag smoke. "I am getting too old for this." His voice was calm and hard to understand due to the strength of his accent.

"What?"

"That boy and his brother have been through a lot more than you know, _cher_." He glanced at Alfred before pulling in another sigh from his cigarette.

"What?" Alfred repeated, his irritation rising.

"I've known them all for a long time, all of those boys." Francis looked up towards the window of England's room. "Ever since we were all children. England's parents moved to the town while his mother was pregnant with Peter. Let's just say he was not best pleased with the idea of having a brother nearly ten years younger than himself." He chuckled softly at his memories of the young England. "I was fourteen at the time. Needless to say I introduced him to Antonio and Gilbert, who both lived nearby. Lovino joined the group later on when his twin, Feliciano, and Gilbert's brother, Ludwig, hooked up and lord knows he did not like that."

Alfred kicked the dirt at his feet, only half listening to what Francis was saying. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear about what England was like when he was younger (even if the description Francis was giving sounded extremely similar to how the moody blonde was at that current point in time), he just wanted answers as to why the man was being targeted so much by the gang he was a member of.

Toris and Felicks had said that England and the others were different from the other gang members. That much was obvious from the way that the leader had treated England when Alfred had been hiding under the bed. But why was he in the gang in the first place if he was so different from what was expected of the members.

And then there was the leader himself; the man who was uncannily familiar to Alfred from the darkest parts of his memories. Heaven knows it wasn't pleasant hearing that tone of voice again, the icy cold voice that drawled out its wishes without caring about the consequences so long as they worked in his favour.

Alfred shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind as he turned his attention back to the rambling Frenchman in front of him.

"You don't think that he sounds any different to back then, do you?" Francis quirked an eyebrow at the younger boy, "But believe me, he's a mess inside his head." He discarded what remained of his fag, stamping it into the ground. "Just as he was getting ready to leave for college with the other boys there was an accident on one of the main roads into the town." Francis's expression darkened as he remembered the incident. "England was at school when the call came in. I heard it from Antonio. One of their teachers called him out of class. His parent's car had been at the centre of the crash and they had died instantly." Alfred noticed that Francis had turned his gaze to frown at the ground at his feet, his hands balled into fists.

Alfred couldn't help but stare weakly at his landlord. _Was this why England acted the way he did?_

"That's when he stopped responding to his own name. Of course we all tried to reassure him and bring him back to the way he was, but it is anyone's guess what has been going on inside his head since then. It's been three years." He flexed his hands, inspecting the marks his fingernails had left in his palms. "He and Peter lived with me for a while in my apartment. Of course I was only too glad to look after them, they were like brothers to me, _non?_" He gave Alfred a strangely pleading look, as if willing him to understand what he was trying to tell him. "But that is when all of this behaviour started. That gang leader found him riding about in town and hooked him in with the lot of them, stringing along the other three with him." He glared over at the two bikes that remained in the car park. "That's when he adopted the name England. That man gave it to him and he accepted it and expected all of us to use it too." He glanced up once more, "He's terrified though." Francis concluded, nodding his head gently. "That boy is terrified of losing anything else, that's why he acts that way when someone gets hurt because of him. Antonio and that boy both got hurt because of something he did. Gilbert told me after you brought him back this evening." He sighed and crossed the short distance between him and Alfred, pressed a hand hard on his tenant's shoulder, "Listen to me, Alfred." His voice had become steely, "I've watched you with him, and I'll tell you this much: don't you dare cause that boy any more pain than he's already suffered. I've looked out for him this long and I don't want Ar-"

"Good evening." Kiku had turned the corner onto the complex, making his way towards the apartment door followed by another Asian looking man with longer hair tied back in a ponytail. "Oh sorry, did we interrupt something?"

"Ah, Kiku! _Mon ami!_" Francis greeted his second tenant warmly; his previous seriousness disappearing the instant Kiku had made his presence known, "_Non, non!_ You did not interrupt a thing. Ah! _Bonjour _Yao!" He kissed the other man quickly on each cheek in a very French manner. "It is so good to see you again!"

"Ah, yes..." The man called Yao replied, shaking off Francis's hand from his shoulder. "I hope I will not be imposing at all by staying with my brother tonight?"

"Of course not!" Francis beamed, ushering the two towards the door. "Come now, or we'll all catch our deaths." He went to follow the two inside, beckoning for Alfred to follow.

"Don't hurt him." He whispered dangerously into Alfred's ear as he passed, making his way back up the stairs.

Alfred glanced back around, looking at the serious expression that had set itself back on Francis's face. "I know about you, Alfred Jones, and what you're running away from." Alfred stared in shock down the stairs at the man who now had his usual sly grin fixed upon his face again, "Look after him for me, _oui?_" He chuckled, disappearing into his own flat, leaving Alfred standing at the top of the first flight of the deserted stairwell.


	9. 9 Jones and Williams

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter Nine_

_

* * *

_

Fire. There was fire and lots of it. He could hear voices screaming for help and the echoes of breaks screeching in his ears. Blood stained his hands and the ground surrounding him, trailing up to that figure who was be crushed. His leg was hidden under the car. He could hear someone calling.

"-fred! Alfred!"

Alfred woke with a start. His head was agony from where he had hit the floor causing stars to flash in his vision when he opened one eye cautiously, finding England staring down at him from the bed looking strangely concerned.

"Morning." Alfred yawned, not moving from the awkward position he had woken up in.

"'Morning' he says." England rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "How on earth did you manage to tip yourself off the chair and end up like that?" He waved his hand towards Alfred's legs which were leaning on the seat of the chair, his feet dangling off to either side. "You must've been having one heck of a nightmare."

"Who said I was having a nightmare?" Alfred questioned, flipping himself into a sitting position on the floor.

"Oh, please." England scoffed, "You kept mumbling in your sleep. It bloody well woke me up! I've been trying to wake you up since but then you went and fell on your head like that. Anyone would be curious as to what caused you to lose even more brain cells."

Alfred turned away from England's interrogative gaze, frowning at the green carpet of the room. "It was nothing." He muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest in a very child-like manner.

Surprised by the method of Alfred's denial England chose not to pursue his questioning of the younger man. Instead he gave one of his quick, barely noticeable smiles, and leant back against the pillows, "Well okay then, if you say so."

Alfred clambered back up to sit on the chair again; inspecting the room's other occupant. "How're you feeling?" He leant forward, placing a hand on England's forehead in an attempt to check his temperature.

England brushed the large hand away, his face flushing, "I'm feeling considerably better, thank you." He said briskly, "I'd be up if Tino hadn't demanded that I rest."

"Well then," Alfred stood up, stretching, "I'll make you some tea, shall I?" He left the room with more of a spring to his step, humming to himself quietly.

England could feel his face heat up as Alfred closed the door behind him, though he loathed to admit that it was because the other was a great deal more caring (and good looking) than he had previously expected or even considered, for that matter.

Much to his irritation, an annoying French accented voice once again drifted up through the open window, interrupting England's confused thoughts. _Did that frog really not know how to speak quietly?_

He moved to close the window and shut out the voice when the man's conversation caught his attention.

"Alfred? _Mon ami,_ I thought that you were upstairs." The Frenchman's voice sounded utterly bewildered.

England peered down at the front of the building, catching sight of Francis leaning out of the front door staring intently at another figure with slightly wavy golden hair, holding a rather large backpack.

"If you were going out you should have taken your key with you." Francis stated sceptically.

"I- I'm not Alfred." England could just about hear the young sounding voice. Indeed, it was not possible for the man to be Alfred. He was speaking _much_ too quietly.

"Well of course you are Alfred, _cher_!" Francis exclaimed, clapping the boy on the shoulder, "Do not think that you can try and fool me." He laughed, obviously not noticing that his English had become slightly fragmented.

"But- but I'm not..." The boy stammered out. He moved to the side in a slightly awkward fashion, revealing the crutch supported under his right arm. A quiet, injured version of Alfred. Well this world was full of surprises.

The bedroom door opened again as Alfred entered, concentrating heavily on the full mug of tea that he was carrying. "Here you go." He smiled, placing it down on the desk and only managing to spill a couple of drops.

"Thanks." England said, picking up the mug, the confusion showing in his voice. "Erm... Alfred?"

"Hm?" Alfred tilted his head, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed.

"The frog seems to think that you're downstairs." He motioned out of the window.

Alfred moved over to look down at where England had signalled, seeing the two figures standing outside of the block. He almost choked out his surprise upon seeing the boy that Francis was still questioning the identity of.

"Oh crap!" Alfred dashed towards the door. "Sorry, I'll be back later."

England blinked, almost missing Alfred's hurried goodbye as the taller boy dashed out of the apartment with the shouts of the others lost behind him (_"Al? What's wrong-? Hey! Watch it!"_). He turned back to look out of the window, waiting for the third blonde to appear.

"Francis!" Right on cue.

"Alfred?" Francis sounded genuinely surprised. "But this..."

"Al- Alfred..." The boy stuttered. "What's going on?"

"Exactly what I would like to know." Francis interjected.

England could see Alfred sighing as the two men ambushed him with questions. Francis was being particularly annoying (in England's opinion) by poking the teen on his forehead in an attempt to get his answer.

"What're you doing here, Matt?" Alfred ran his hand over his forehead, messing his hair up further.

"Well I..."

"And with your leg like that?" Alfred motioned to the crutch. "Jeez... what were you thinking?"

The other boy pushed his glasses up his nose, not meeting Alfred's eyes. His face was very pale compared to his lookalike, his blonde hair slightly longer but still supported that one piece that stuck up stubbornly, though his was curled and again, longer than Alfred's. His eyes were tinged slightly violet as opposed to Alfred's brilliantly sky-blue ones. When looking at the two next to each other one could tell that Alfred was slightly taller but they were unmistakably similar to one another.

"Well never mind." Alfred moved to ruffle the other's hair, smiling fondly (much to England's surprise as he observed them from his window). "Matt, this is my landlord, Francis Bonnefoy." He motioned to the Frenchman who shook the hand that Matt wasn't using to hold his crutch. "Francis, this is my little brother, Matthew Jones-"

"Williams." Matthew cut off his brother, still avoiding his gaze as Alfred turned to look at him in dismay.

"You... you took Mum's last name?" Alfred spluttered out, shocked at his younger brother's interruption.

"Th- that's why I came." Matthew stuttered, "She wants you to as well."

Both Alfred and Matthew kept making attempts to make a statement to one another, only to mumble something unintelligible, and then continue on in silence, pointedly looking either at the floor or at the wall.

"Oh come now!" Francis's accent rang out between the two younger boys, after he'd had quite enough of being forgotten as he stood next to them. "Brothers should not act in such a manner, I've had quite enough of that from Gilbert and Ludwig." He looped an arm around each of them and guided them inside, closing the door with his foot.

* * *

England stepped back from the window, sitting back on the bed with a huff.

He tried to convince himself that he wasn't as concerned about what he had just witnessed from a distance as he knew his face portrayed. Of course it wasn't any of his business if there were problems within Alfred's family. That was his problem. It had absolutely nothing to do with him. So why did he care so much about the look on Alfred's face when his brother had corrected him?

How could something be so distressing and irritating at the same time?

A brown coloured mound caught his attention on the corner of his desk.

_Oh yes,_ England huffed, _the git would just go and forget his bloody jacket._

_

* * *

_

Alfred closed his apartment door behind him.

He'd managed to convince Francis to go back into his own room after he'd tried to strike up a truly terrible conversation about what type of girl's Matthew liked and whether he was old enough to drink yet (_"He's seventeen, for Christ's Sake!"_).

Matthew had staggered further into the room, after having much trouble making his way up the four flights of stairs to Alfred's flat, propped his crutch and backpack up on the coffee table and practically collapsed onto the sofa, evidently exhausted.

"I can't believe you came all the way here with _that!_" Alfred jerked his head at the bag, standing in front of his brother on the opposite side of the small table. "Are you actually trying to fuck up your leg even more?" He shook his head, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Jeez Mattie, what were you thinking?"

"I didn't walk..." Matthew's voice was almost a whisper (something that Alfred was very much used to). "And Mum wanted me to bring you the papers."

"Papers?"

"For the name change." Matthew moved to rummage through his bag, pulling out a wad of paper which he offered to Alfred.

Alfred took them, glancing over the top page, before glaring dangerously at his younger brother, who seemed to merge into the fabric of the sofa under his gaze.

A knock at the door brought Alfred's attention away from Matthew. He turned to answer it, forgetting about the papers in his hand. _Probably Francis being an idiot again..._

He opened the door with slightly more force than he would normally have done, revealing a slightly startled looking England waiting outside. He was dressed in his usual jeans and shirt, his hair still looking as if he'd just staggered in from a hurricane.

"Uh... hi?" Alfred questioned, not quite believing that it was indeed England holding out his bomber jacket to him.

"You left this downstairs." England stated, peering around Alfred into his room.

"Oh right, thanks." Alfred grinned, ignoring the pleased feeling he'd acquired upon seeing the smaller blonde at his door. "Err... well... you wanna come in for a bit?"

"Are you sure?" England spotted Matthew looking at them from his position on the sofa, "I mean, you have company."

"Matt won't mind." Alfred reassured, steering England into the room and closing the door. "Besides, you shouldn't be walking up and down too much, the doctor told you to rest."

England noted the general mess around Alfred's flat, wondering which 'mystery object' (a title he had given to the strange objects that he found in random places in the student's apartment) would turn up this time.

He sat down awkwardly at Alfred's cluttered desk, thinking it unwise to sit next to the boy he had yet to be introduced to properly, especially as it seemed that the boy was already so obviously worried.

"You want a drink or something?" Alfred reappeared after putting his jacket away (it was the only possession that he seemed to take care of, ignoring the fact that he'd left it in someone else's apartment).

"Ah, no. That's alright. I just finished that cup of tea." England nodded his appreciation to the offer. "And I can't stand being cooped all day, those three idiots and my brother would be unbearable. They were arguing over whether Gilbert was 'awesome' or not when I snuck out."

Alfred chuckled, imagining Gilbert's obvious rage at the idea that he wasn't as awesome as he made himself out to be. He disappeared into the kitchen area, the smell of coffee soon travelling into the living room. "You do need to take it easy though, okay?" He called out to England, "You're still a bit pale."

"Since when did you become responsible?" England retorted, rolling his eyes at Matthew, who looked confused by the whole situation. "Has he always been like this?"

Matthew started at the question that was suddenly directed towards him. He stared at England for a few seconds before nodding slowly, apparently uncertain on how he should answer the stranger.

"I won't bite, you know." England huffed, "You don't need to be so nervous."

"I'd be nervous if I were him." Alfred laughed, joining the two and setting a mug of coffee on the table in front of his brother, joining him on the sofa. "This is England, Matt." He gestured to England, "He lives downstairs with his brother."

"Ah. Okay." Matthew answered quietly, emphasising the difference between the two brothers. He eyed the papers that had been discarded on the coffee table, obviously still worried about Alfred's previous reaction to them.

Unfortunately, Alfred noticed his brother's eyes wander towards the slips. He sighed and stood up again, gathering up the papers. He turned to face Matthew, his mouth in a thin line, surprising England more than the youngest of three. He hadn't expected to see Alfred make such an expression.

"I'm not taking Mum's last name, Matt." He said shortly.

"But-"

"No." Alfred gave England an apologetic look. "Our parents got divorced last year." He explained, "Our Mum's been trying to get us to take her name ever since."

England nodded quickly, feeling the atmosphere in the room becoming more and more tense.

"But Al, Dad keeps being really unreasonable. You can understand why-"

"Why what?" Alfred shot at his brother, "I said no, Matt, and I'm sticking to that." He put his coffee down on the table, turning to lean on the wall. "This whole thing was my fault in the beginning. Changing my name now would be like running away."

England shifted uncomfortably in his seat, bringing Alfred's attention back to him.

"Besides!" He began quickly, his voice taking on its normal, energetic tone. "Alfred F. Williams just sounds stupid. Jones suits my name so much better, don't you think?" He grinned at England, who simply stared back at him at a loss for words.

"But Al-!" Matthew tried to interrupt but was silenced again by Alfred.

"Anyway Mattie, you need to get going! Your taxi's waiting outside isn't it?" He bounded around, stuffing the paper back into Matthew's bag. "You've got school tomorrow, right? You can't keep hanging around here." He held out Matthew's crutch to him, supporting his brother as he stood up. "You've got exams coming up this year, can't have you lazing around like I did, can we?"

"Al, you don't need to..." Matthew whispered to his brother as they made their way towards the door, Alfred supporting his younger brother's weight.

"Yes I do." Alfred muttered back. "And don't try and stop me."

Matthew looked up at his brother, the concern showing behind his glasses.

"I'll be back in a second, okay England?" He waved at the older man, who was still sitting, utterly baffled, in the chair next to the desk.

The brothers exited the flat, before Alfred heaved Matthew up onto his back, grabbing his crutch, something that Matthew had become accustomed to in the past. There was no point in arguing about it, no matter how ungraceful the two of them appeared as the older brother carried the younger down the flights of stairs. It was simply too difficult for Matthew to manoeuvre himself down the steps while supporting himself with his crutch and carrying his backpack. It was hard enough when he was in the bundles at school, where his friends always helped him to carry his bags as his limped his way up and down the blocks.

* * *

Alfred watched the taxi round the corner and sighed deeply.

That wasn't the reunion with his brother that he had hoped for since he'd left home. But his mother was bound to try something to stir things up again. This hadn't been the first time she had produced those papers for him to sign since she and her husband had split up.

He made his way back upstairs, trying to wipe the entire visit from his mind. He didn't want the events of the last few years to replay in his mind any more than they already did, but Matthew's surprise visit really hadn't been a welcome relief from the daily stresses.

The sight of England tidying up the clutter on his desk, however, was just what Alfred needed to break his attention away from the jumbled up thoughts inside is head.

"What?" England started at Alfred's sudden reappearance. "This place is so messy I'm surprised you can find anything in this heap of junk."

"Nothing." Alfred smiled, taking the pile of books England was holding and placing them down on the coffee table. "I just thought you looked kinda cute wearing that." He gestured to the apron England had tied around his waist. "I forgot I had that thing."

England scoffed, rolling his eyes and adding another folder to the ever-growing pile of Alfred's college paperwork.

"I'll do that." Alfred stepped forward, gently pushing England to one side. "You should be _resting._"

England pouted, before chuckling at Alfred's concern. "I'm fine. Seriously." He opened one of the desk's empty drawers and placed the folders inside. "Besides, you've got more important things to worry about, don't you?"

Alfred gawked at the older man before slumping down on the sofa with his head in his hands. He glanced up at England who had taken the seat next to him, still holding a pile of papers.

"Oh, come now." England batted him on the head with the wads, "It's not like you to look so worn out."

Alfred leaned over and propped his head on England's shoulder, feeling him stiffen instantly.

The two stayed in that position for some time before England finally relaxed, patting Alfred's head and allowing his hands to run through his hair. He could hear Alfred sigh from next to him and feel him adjusting his glasses into a more comfortable position.

"It's my fault that Matt's on crutches." Alfred muttered so quietly that England almost missed what he had said. "And that my parents got a divorce."

"Alfred..." England tilted the younger man's head up so that he could see his face. The shine had disappeared from his eyes and they seemed dull and lifeless. "Alfred, you know that can't be true. These things just happen." He cupped Alfred's cheek, running his thumb under one blue eye and smiling gently.

"You don't know what I did." Alfred said, burying his face once more, avoiding England's gaze.

"Wouldn't I understand?" England questioned, predicting Alfred's next sentence.

"You might." Alfred mumbled into England's shoulder.

"Then tell me?"

Alfred stood up quickly, knocking the papers out of England's hands. He crossed the room in four strides, placing a fist against the wall. He couldn't lose his temper now. He'd held it for the entire time Matt had been there. He couldn't break down now.

"Al?" England was by his side again. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

Alfred looked down at the hand on his shoulder, following the line up the arm to England's face. The concern showed in his eyes more than Alfred had expect, so much so that it took him a few seconds to compose himself again.

"You see all this stuff?" Alfred gestured around the room, pointing at the books and papers, "It's not meant for me." He looked at England square in the face. "I told you before, all this literature stuff, I'm not interested in it. I find it dead boring." He turned away again and started to gather up the papers he caused England to drop. "I'm doing this for Matt."

England took the papers from him again, putting them back on the desk. "You know what I think?" He turned to face Alfred, smiling that small, almost non-existent, yet calming smile. "I think you need to go out and get some fresh air."

"You're pretty caring for a biker." Alfred smirked, looking back at England, who huffed in reply.

"Well if that's how you're going to be then-"

He was cut off by Alfred. The taller blonde had wrapped his arms around him, causing England to freeze mid-sentence, his mind going totally blank.

"Thanks." Alfred said, breathing in contently, "For listening I mean. Thanks."

"No problem..." England stammered, still surprised by Alfred's sudden embrace.

It was strange, but not a horrible feeling and England loathed to admit that he felt better knowing that Alfred sounded more like himself again. He could feel his heart beating against his chest and hoped that Alfred hadn't noticed, even if the other's heartbeat also seemed to have quickened as well. England could feel it through his clothes.

His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults, but not unpleasantly so. No, quite the opposite, in fact.

He shook the sensation out of his head. No. He couldn't start thinking like that. Alfred was just overly affectionate, that was all.

"Ah! Sorry!" Alfred let go of England's rigid form, seeming to realise the awkwardness of the situation he had created. He rubbed the back of his head, apparently having regained his usual composure. "Seriously though, man, thanks."

"That's perfectly alright." England straightened out the creases on the front of his shirt, noting briefly the slight pink tinge to Alfred's cheeks and prayed that his face did not mirror this.

Alfred removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt before noting that he still hadn't gotten changed. He motioned to England that he'd be back in a minute, pulling his shirt off over his head.

England caught a glance of the bandage Alfred wore on his side, looking a lot shabbier than the one he had previously seen. The corners had folded back from where Alfred had been sleeping, revealing the slightest bit of lighter skin where a scar was evidently present.

"So you reckon going out would do me some good?" Alfred called from the next room, his voice muffled as he pulled another t-shirt over his head. He reappeared in his living room wearing a pair of cropped jeans and his clean shirt, pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

"I would think so, yes." England nodded, trying to ignoring the voice in his head that was telling him that he was glad that Alfred was acting like himself again.

"Great!" Alfred beamed, grabbing England's wrist and heading for the door, snatching up his keys along the way. "Let's go then!"

They'd made it out into the hallway before England managed to halt Alfred, his words of protest having been completely ineffective. "Will you just stop a second, you prat!" He pulled his arm out of Alfred's grip, massaging where he had been holding it. "Why on earth do I need to go with you?"

"Because," Alfred began, laughing in a manner that made it sound almost like a giggle, "if fresh air will do me good, then it will for you as well. It might make your fever go down some more." He grinned, nudging England towards the stairs with his foot. "That and I'd be lonely if I went by myself."

England gaped at Alfred, who appeared to be extremely pleased with himself. He refused to acknowledge the blush that he knew he'd acquired. _He just didn't want to go by himself. It's not that he wants to spend time with you!_

"Well, if you've got no objections!" Alfred laughed, taking a hold of England's wrist once more and dragging him along behind him.

They reached the front door, running past a figure that looked remarkably like Peter standing outside England's apartment. England had tried to shout out something to them, but gave up when they past the second floor. Outside England caught sight of Tino with a taller man wearing glasses and quickened his pace to get past them, much to Alfred's amusement when the two young doctors shouted after them in protest.

What they did not notice, however, was the person standing astride a motorcycle, watching them from across the street, long platinum hair scooped back into a ponytail, eyes hidden behind dark shades, her helmet perched in front of her, a slightly confused smirk present on her lips.

**[A/N:** Sorry that it's been a while since I last updated, but now my exams have finally finished and I can get back to what's important, right? =P

I've got a bit more to ramble about this time since I got a nice little surprise yesterday when Carry-the-Dead on deviantART sent me a link to _this_. I must say that I was totally thrilled to see that someone had drawn the guys, especially since their in the clothes that I drew them in as well! ^-^  
This got me into thinking, that because I haven't properly said this here, if anyone does fan art of any of my fics please let me know and I'll link to them everywhere (lol) _and_ I'll reward you with either a request fic or fanart (not both unless I really want to ^^;;), according to your preference.  
Of course this is all optional, but I didn't think anyone really liked the fic all that much until I got the message with the link to this pic. It really made my day =)

One other little note: the idea of the "mystery object" comes from the BBC series 'Outnumbered'. In one of the episodes the mum finds a trowel behind the television while getting everyone ready for school in the morning lol**]**


	10. 10 An Old Green

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 10_

_

* * *

_

Belarus skipped along the corridors of the house. It wasn't often that she was in this good a mood, it only occurred when she knew that she had done something that would please her beloved someone. This someone, of course, being Russia.

"Russia, dear?" She peered around the doorframe at the end of the hallway, knowing that the person she was looking for was seated inside.

Russia, who had been mapping out something on the table, stiffened slightly before appearing to relax as Belarus entered the room. "Ah, Belarus." He smiled up at her, "And what brings you to my study?"

"I've got some news for you." She made herself comfortable on the sofa next to the taller man, fiddling aimlessly with the ends of his scarf. "I think you'll be interested."

Belarus rarely smiled, and if she did the expression was usually pointed towards the gang leader, who was obviously something of an idol in her eyes.

"Is that so?" Russia's smile flickered wearily and he shifted slightly further away from the girl. "What kind of news?"

Belarus shuffled closer again, leaning on Russia's arm. "Now I couldn't just tell you, could I?" She teased, "I need persuasion."

Russia sighed, turning back to the map he'd made himself, ignoring the girl's words.

"Russia, dear?" She nudged his foot, "Russia?" Still no response.

A knock at the door ended Belarus's attempts to get the man's attention.

"Oh, Natalia! I didn't know you were here." The woman standing in the doorway had her hands clasped over her rather large chest, her face showing obvious worry.

"I arrived a few minutes ago, big sister." Belarus's expression had turned steely, but she continued to hold onto Russia's arm.

"I was just wondering if you wanted anything to eat." She rushed out, turning her attention to Russia.

He turned to look briefly at the older woman, "That would be pleasant, Ukraine." He smiled fondly, carefully avoiding Belarus's glare as he showed her older sister more affection than he had shown her.

"I do wish you wouldn't call me that." She sighed, squeezing her hands tighter together, "I'm your sister, not another member of that gang of yours."

"It doesn't matter." Russia stated simply, turning away from the doorway. "So, that news?" He changed the topic, now ignoring his elder sister in favour of his younger sibling.

"Oh, yes." Belarus said quickly, leaning in to whisper in her brother's ear. "I just _know_ that you'll be pleased with this..."

* * *

Alfred flopped back on the grass almost panting after running for so long. It was refreshing being able to just let go and run once in a while, it was a freedom which he had forgotten in recent months, what with moving away from home to go to a new college. The grass was cut short and prickled his neck as he lay on it, but the blonde continued to stare up at the sky, grinning shamelessly.

"Why on _earth_ did you make me run all the way here?" England gasped from beside the younger man. He was doubled over with his hands on his knees, trying to suppress the stitch in his side as he caught his breath back. He peered around the small green that Alfred had practically dragged him to. It really wasn't anything special, in his opinion. A swing set and slide were positioned in one corner for children to use, but the rest of the area was empty space.

Alfred sat up, laughing slightly at England's apparent exhaustion. "Because," he ran his hand through his hair, brushing any grass clippings away, "I used to come here loads when I was a kid. Oh, come on! You could look a little more excited!"

England looked decidedly grumpy upon hearing that Alfred had apparently brought him to this particular spot to reminisce about his childhood. In fact, to him it sounded like one massive waste of time.

However, he noted much to his amusement, even Alfred could look cute when he pouted like that.

Straightening up again, England wandered aimlessly over to the deserted swing set, taking a seat on the swing that didn't look like it was about to fall off its chains. It was actually nice to be in such a place. It was peaceful; especially since there weren't any children around at that particular point in time. He kicked his legs back, letting the swing move gently, helped slightly by the breeze that had picked up.

Alfred watched the older man front his spot sitting on the grass. The wind had blown his hair even more out of place than it was normally, but also made him look more natural. He just looked right sitting there with the trees creating the suitable picturesque background. They framed him beautifully.

The wind also carried something else, a soothing sound that Alfred hadn't expected to hear. England was singing, no, humming really. His low register piercing through the sound of the rustling leaves as it reached Alfred's ears. And by God, could that guy sing. Bikers' voices were usually raw from shouting over the engine noise, and were often known to be practically deaf for the same reason if their helmets weren't worn properly. But England was absolutely pitch perfect. Indeed his voice was absolutely incredible (_awesome even_).

The swing lurched dangerously, almost catapulting England off the seat as Alfred leapt unceremoniously onto it behind him. He pushed the swing further forward, making it rock higher into the air as he stood on it behind the now rather disgruntled man.

"What in _blazes_ are you-?"

"_Relax!_" Alfred laughed, continuing to push the swing back and forth. "Just hold on tight and try not to fall off. Besides, it's more fun this way!"

"You're unbelievable!" England almost yelled after he was nearly flung off the seat a second time and grabbed the chains tighter, cursing under his breath.

"Is that your way of saying awesome?" Alfred smirked, peaking down at England quickly, being careful not to tip the swing up backwards.

England huffed, elbowing Alfred in the knee, although he regretted this action when the leg twitched violently, nearly sending him flying off the swing and onto the ground. In fact, what actually happened was that England attempted to jump off the swing when he felt Alfred's leg move, tripped, and fell onto the grass face first, rolling over to see Alfred still standing on the swing looking quite perplexed as to how the other blonde had managed to fall over quite that spectacularly.

Alfred swung on the seat a couple more times before leaping off and over England's form on the floor, landing poorly on his feet and stumbling over to join the other lying on the grass.

A snort from next to him brought Alfred's attention back to England, who, unbelievably, had started laughing at Alfred's excursion. This usually cynical grumpy man was laughing at him.

"It wasn't _that_ funny..." Alfred pouted, rolling over to lean on his elbows, secretly enjoying watching England actually relax for once.

"Sorry, sorry!" England lay back onto the grass, briefly glancing over at Alfred, smiling quickly, before returning his gaze to the sky. "It was a good choice, you know, this place. It's nice." He closed his eyes and let the breeze wash over him, blowing his hair over his face.

"You're really weird." Alfred stated, "Being all annoying one second and then suddenly deciding to be interesting. And of course it's nice here! I wouldn't have come here otherwise!" He readjusted his glasses, watching England lying back in the short grass.

"I'm weird?" England chuckled, "Says the one who's scared of monsters that don't exist."

"Shut up!" Alfred poked him hard in his side, "Everyone's scared of something, including people as awesome as me!"

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before." England opened one eye to look at the frustrated blonde, still smiling. "It's good to be able to relax like this once in a while, even if I am going to get it in the back when we get home. They're going to kill me for going out when I was told to rest."

Alfred finally settled down on the ground again, smirking slightly at the thought of England being lectured by the others when they returned. "It's my fault really." He breathed out a laugh, returning England's gaze, "I dragged you out here."

"Then you won't mind me blaming you, then?" England smirked, showing Alfred one of his almost pirate-like expressions.

"I never said that!" Alfred jabbed England again, only causing the older man to laugh again and swat his hand away.

"I don't know." England's smile widened menacingly, "It certainly sounded like that's what you were saying."

"No it didn't!" Alfred joined in with England's teasing, shoving him to the side slightly, his grin matching England's.

"I think it did." England nodded to himself as if to end the dispute.

"Argh! I don't like this evil side of you!" Alfred mocked defeat, rolling over in the grass so that he was closer to where he had pushed England. "A hero like me has to stop evil from running its path!"

England stopped, turning his gaze away from the excitable teenager. It was like the weight that had been lifted from his chest as they had been talking had suddenly fallen back onto him with a great impact. It was painful hearing words like that directed at him. It was like hearing someone pushing the blame for the things that he knew only too well were his fault straight into his face. The gang, the violence, all of it. He shook his head; there was no way Alfred could have known what those words meant to him and what they did to his head. He wasn't to know that they dug at the corners of his mind.

"Evil, huh?" It was all he could muster. There was nothing he could say to soften the words that Alfred had said, even if he had not meant any harm by them.

Alfred watched England in silence. He had no idea how to address the older man when he was so deep in thought and it made it that much more difficult to carry on a normal conversation when the person he was conversing with was obviously struggling with his own emotions.

He reached out to touch England's shoulder. He just _had_ to try and comfort him in some way. It was way too hard to just watch him suffer by himself like that.

England jerked away from Alfred's hand, not expecting the usually quite clumsy boy to be so gentle, his hands were larger than his own and, while they were rough and appeared to be slightly scarred in some places, were careful in their touch and by God they were just what he had needed. Just some sign that there was someone there with him. Someone who could see that he was in pain, and were kind enough to try and ease it in such a simple, yet caring manner.

"Yeah." Alfred spoke quietly, just loud enough for England to hear his voice over the sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the surrounding trees. "Evil that I'm going to get rid of and save the world."

Honestly, how could he speak of such childish things with such a serious tone of voice? It was illogical, England thought, yet strangely endearing.

Alfred's hand moved to England's cheek, brushing his hair away from his eyes. They were exactly the same colour as the grass, he noted. That brilliant green that stood out amazingly even when England was acting as a single-minded biker, used to bloodshed and violence. He moved so that he could look down into England's face; he needed to get a clear look at him. He needed to see his face to know what he was thinking, his emotions almost screaming out hurt from those deep emerald eyes.

All England could do was stare back at Alfred. He wasn't used to seeing the boy look so serious. In the time that they had known each other it was an expression that he rarely displayed to any of them, especially England. No, usually he'd act terribly goofy and naive, as if he wasn't even aware of the troubles that he'd brought himself so close to just by knowing England and his friends. It was so stupid, but at the same time reassuring to know that there was someone who was still willing to treat him as a normal person and not just some thug who only cared about causing damage to society's perfect ideals. Alfred was different to them. He didn't overlook the danger; he just casually avoided it as best he could.

"Alfred..." He finally broke the silence, bringing both of their attentions back to where they were.

Alfred started away, falling back onto his hands blushing terribly, the redness reaching his ears. He had been so lost in thought that he'd almost completely forgotten that he'd had his hand resting on England's cheek. Almost, but not quite. He'd known that he was looking at England, trying to discover what the smaller man was thinking, what he was _feeling_. But it was impossible not to get lost in those utterly beautiful eyes.

"S- Sorry..." He stuttered out, finding his voice and willing his face to cool down.

England raised his hand to his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off of it from where Alfred had touched him and knew that the flush on his face must have matched Alfred's. "That's- That's perfectly alright." He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts, "You didn't mean anything by it."

"Yeah..." Alfred muttered, really hoping that England was right about the last part. Even he wasn't sure of what he was thinking anymore. Being with him at that moment had felt so perfect that he'd forgotten himself for just a second and had acted in such a way that he had confused not only England, but himself as well. Just what _had_ he meant by touching him like that? _Oh hell..._

"We should be getting back." England pushed himself to his feet, rubbing the base of his spine trying to get some of the feeling back into his back. "The others will be wondering where we have gotten to."

Alfred staggered to his feet, staying a few paces away from the older man. "All right then." He smiled around at the familiar surroundings quickly before catching up with England's pace as they left the green.

* * *

"This is completely your own fault, you know."

As soon as England had stepped back inside his apartment he had been bombarded by questions, mostly coming from an extremely agitated woman with long brown hair.

"If you had just done as Tino had told you then you wouldn't be feeling as awful as you are now."

"Leave 'im be, Elizabeta." A taller blonde muttered from next to England while taking the shorter man's temperature.

"Shut it, Berwald." She snapped, shooting a glare at the doctor. "If he's well enough to go running around town, then he's well enough to work. Roderich and I don't have time to deliver the prescriptions in between all of the other work at the surgery."

"You really shouldn't have gone out." Tino interjected, handing Berwald his bag. He gave the man a soft smile which he quickly hid from the other occupants of the room. "It wasn't the best decision."

"Don't you start as well." England grumbled, holding out his arm for Berwald to inject some other type of medicine into it.

"Yeah." Gilbert chuckled, appearing next to the group. "He's had enough of all that from this witch."

"Say that again and I will not be held responsible for my actions." Elizabeta shot at him, tossing her hair over one shoulder, "After all, _you_ could have come and made _your_ round of deliveries, but no. No, you decided to skive off _again!_" She ignored Gilbert's protests, "Just because you're Roderich's cousin doesn't mean I have to be nice to you." She huffed and sat down stiffly on the sofa next to Antonio (who had somehow managed to hold Lovino in place on his lap).

"Stop arguing, will you." England sighed, wishing that he hadn't come back home so quickly. He massaged his arm where Berwald had stopped pressing a wad of cotton wool against it to stop the bleeding from the injection, "If you must blame someone for my going out, then blame him." He jerked his head at where Alfred was perched on the kitchen counter, smirking at his reaction when Elizabeta snapped her head round to glare at him instead.

"Hey! I thought you were joking about blaming me!" Alfred whined, shuffling further away from where the angry brunette was seething. "Besides, you were the one who suggested going out in the first place."

Gilbert took the opportunity to move closer to England, leaning down to speak so that no one else could hear him, while Elizabeta was busy arguing with Alfred. "Your phone's been ringing all day." He muttered into England's ear.

"What?" England met Gilbert's gaze, realising the tone his voice had taking couldn't mean anything good. "Who?"

"_Him._" Gilbert emphasised the word, fully aware that England would know who he meant. "He called me as well, said that you had to come to the meeting today 'or else'."

"But he knows that I'm-" Gilbert held his hand up, stopping England from continuing.

"Belarus saw you leaving today." He sighed, leaning on the arm of England's chair. "He said that if you were well enough to go running through town, then you must be well enough to attend the meeting and carry out the tasks he expects of us all."

"Bollocks..." England swore. Just his luck, Russia's most loyal lackey had seen him. Brilliant, just brilliant. "Gil, I really don't think I should be-"

"I know, and I agree." Gilbert cut across him again, his expression strangely serious. "I was gonna say that if you tried to go then I'd let Liza tie you to that chair of yours. She'd probably do it anyway if you tried to go out again. I won't go either."

"Something wrong?" Alfred peered down at the two of them, having finished his row with Elizabeta. "You two look _way_ too serious."

"Ah, no, Al." England smiled up at him, thinking it unwise to inform him of the details of his and Gilbert's conversation. "It's nothing, don't worry." He stood up, stretching. "Tell Roderich I'll be back in work tomorrow, Liza." He crossed the room to her, smiling expectantly.

"Only if you're feeling one hundred percent better by then, okay?" She sighed, knowing when to give up.

"Got it." He picked a bottle out of the fridge and tossed it to Gilbert. "Don't get too drunk this time, you've got class tomorrow."

"Yes _mother_." Gilbert cackled, raising the bottle in thanks, recognising it as England's way of telling him to keep their conversation a secret.

* * *

"So they decided to ignore my warning."

Russia leant back against his bike, surveying the members of the gang who were present. Their numbers had greatly depleted in recent months, less than half of the original members remained, the others either having disappeared from the area, too afraid to face the leader's wrath, or had been dismissed by Russia and had suffered the consequences that everyone who was forced to leave the group was subjected to.

"What a pity. I was hoping that I had scared them enough to convince them to come." He drummed his fingers against the handlebars, displaying his displeasure to the rest of the group even though his face continued to show his constant smile.

"I could go back to the apartment block to watch out for them." Belarus piped up, moving forward from the small crowd of bikers.

"No, no that won't be necessary." Russia stated calmly, continuing to tap his fingers against his bike. "Not if what you said earlier was true. It will only be a matter of time before they have no choice but to come here, all _three_ of them." He let his eyes drift over the group, seeing the majority of them hold their breath as his gaze passed over them. "Estonia."

"Yes, Russia sir?" Another man stepped forward, his body language displaying his nervousness to the gang leader.

"Take a group down to that place that I told you about earlier. I want you to find something." Russia's smile widened as he played out his thoughts in his head. Yes, it was only a matter of time now.


	11. 11 When Tempers Run High

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 11_

_

* * *

_

"Peter! Come on, you're going to be late!" England banged on his brother's door. He knew that Peter was dressed and was once again trying to put off the journey to school once again. "Come on! Alfred's going to be here in a minute and it's bad enough he's nearly always late as well!" He thumped on the door a few more times before Peter appeared from the other side, adjusting his tie and blazer so that England wouldn't have anything more to moan at him about.

"I'm coming, okay?" He asked rhetorically, glaring up at England.

"Good." England nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Antonio and Lovino left ten minutes ago. Still, it's no surprise that Alfred's late again." He glanced at his wristwatch, "No, it's too late. I'll walk you, let's go."

He steered Peter towards the door, looking down at his watch again, making full sure that he'd gotten the time right and it was definitely Alfred who was late, not them running early. No, it was definitely Alfred, as usual.

"Wait here, Peter." England sighed, before turning to head back up the stairs again. He wasn't usually _this_ late.

"Hey, Alfred?" He knocked on Alfred's door, knowing full well that the younger man was still inside his apartment. There was still a light on inside. "Alfred, do you have any idea what time it is? You're making both yourself and Peter late, git!"

"You're making an awful lot of noise, aru." Yao appeared at the door to Kiku's room, staring at England hammering on Alfred's apartment door. "The landlord will not be happy."

"Who cares about that frog?" England overlooked Yao, turning his attention back to trying to get Alfred's attention. He had obviously become deaf overnight. (_Like that was actually possible..._)

"My brother already tried to get his attention once this morning already before he had to leave, aru. He didn't think that the boy was at home in the end."

England ignored him and tried the handle. The door swung open unexpectedly, nearly causing England to fall headfirst onto Alfred's doormat. "Al?" He moved further inside, not listening to Yao's protests that 'one should not enter another's home uninvited'.

It was strange being inside the flat when Alfred wasn't there acting like his normal, incredibly hyperactive self. It gave the room an eerie, empty feel to it that was not right in the slightest. "Al, I know you're in here. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

He could hear running water from one of the other rooms, but no other movement from inside. _Did he fall asleep in the bath or something...?_

"Al? Are you alright in there?" He wasn't entirely convinced that Alfred was even there, but why would he have left the door unlocked otherwise?

There was the sound of something slipping from inside the room and something falling over, followed by loud swearing. "Alfred?"

"Ow ow ow... shit!" Alfred's voice could be heard over the water in the bathroom. "England? What is it?"

England caught himself staring at the door and shook his head, bringing himself back to the subject at hand, "Erm... well it's getting really late and Peter's going to be late for school." He waited for an answer, "If there's a problem I can walk him."

Alfred's head appeared from around the door. "Bloody hell... What happened?" England returned to staring. Alfred was dripping wet but did appear to be wearing clothes, which meant that there was no way that he had been in the shower.

"Ah, well I had a bit of an accident..." The younger man tripped over his words, carefully hiding most of his body on the side of the door that England couldn't see. "It's nothing to worry about, honest. I probably shouldn't go out looking like this though."

"What kind of accident?" England pushed on the door, trying to see the extent of the damage done to Alfred's bathroom.

"No, it's nothing! Really!" Alfred pushed England back, finding that the smaller man could be a lot stronger than he looked.

"Oh come now! It can't be that bad." England scoffed, forcing his way past Alfred into the small bathroom, which, to his surprise, was perfectly clean. "I don't see what the problem is."

Alfred had leant back against the sink, avoiding looking at the older man. He had his hand clamped over his side, hiding most of a growing crimson stain that was seeping through his shirt. "You see? Now, didn't you say that Peter was going to be late?"

England turned to face him, coming to face a very nervous looking Alfred. He had shifted further into the corner of the room, hand still covering his shirt. He caught sight of the red that was soaking into the younger man's shirt. "What's that?" He moved closer to Alfred, trying to catch hold of his hand.

"It's nothing! England, Peter's going to be late!" He pushed England's hand away, backing into the corner completely.

"Stop being a baby." England grabbed hold of the other's larger hand, yanking it away from the sopping wet shirt. He lifted up the hem, examining the gash on Alfred's waist. "What on earth did you do?"

"Would you believe that I cut it while shaving?" Alfred rubbed the back of his head with his clean hand, sending drops of water showering down onto his shoulders.

"You're a terrible liar." England rolled his eyes up at Alfred, still inspecting the wound. "Were you trying to stop the bleeding by soaking yourself or something?"

"Of course not!" Alfred huffed, "I'm not _that _stupid. What are you doing?"

England had pulled out his mobile, while still pressing one hand hard against Alfred's side. "Texting the frog to get him to take Peter to school so I can stay here and clean up this mess, and Antonio to get him to tell someone that you're going to be late."

"England, I'm _fine!_ Seriously!" Alfred tried to push England's hand away, only to flinch when he put more pressure on the wound.

"Shut up for once will you." England jabbed him again, resulting in another hiss from Alfred. "You've usually got this all bandaged up, why did you take it off, you prat?"

Alfred didn't answer, instead looking away sheepishly from where England was now carefully cleaning the blood away.

"This wound is fresh, Alfred." He knelt down to get a better look at the gash, wiping away another streak of blood. "What in blazes were you doing?"

Still no answer.

England sighed, "I'm not an idiot Al. I can work out that you did this to yourself. I just want to know what possessed you to do such a thing."

"I couldn't take it anymore." Alfred mumbled so quietly England almost missed it.

"Pardon?"

"I had to get rid of it!" Alfred's hands were clenched into fists, partially from the pain of England touching the cut, but most from his own frustration.

"Get rid of what? Alfred calm down; you're making it bleed more!" England clamped the cloth he was holding over Alfred's side.

"England get off. I can handle it."

"Not until you calm down." England frowned up at the taller blonde, resolute in his decision not to move.

"Can we at least move into the living room?" Alfred met England's scowl, "It's too cramped in here."

"Fine." England stood up, keeping eye-contact with Alfred in order to try and make some assumption on what he might have been thinking.

The tension didn't ease up even when they had moved into the larger room. Alfred refused to look at England as he placed another bandage over the cut. "And there we go." He smiled lightly up at Alfred, whose face was still turned away. He sighed, dropping his shoulders, "What's wrong, Alfred? It's not like you to be like this."

Alfred jerked his face round, his eyes visibly darker than their usual sky blue. "How would you know what I'm like?"

"What?" England stared at him. The statement had been so unexpected that he couldn't think of any reasonable reply.

"You have no idea what I'm like." Alfred continued, ignoring England's obvious dismay at his outburst. "You don't even know how to handle the situation you're in, let alone mine!"

"Alfred!" England stood up in front of him, his brows furrowed into a glare. "My situation has nothing to do with this. I'm trying to help you, and you're throwing it all back in my face. And you try to tell me you're not a brat." He rolled his eyes, not moving from his position in front of the sofa.

"I'm sorry..."

The mutter was nearly inaudible. Alfred was staring into his lap, the water still dripping from his hair. His breaths were rasping and coming through quickly.

"It's okay." England stepped forward between Alfred's legs, tilting his head up so that he could see his face. He rubbed his thumb under one of those bright blue eyes, brushing a stray drop of water away. He held the damp head in his hands, a small smile set on his lips, trying to reassure the distressed younger man. "You know, I was so annoyed when Francis told you about me, and don't try to say that he didn't because I heard it all from the window." He cut across before Alfred could interrupt. "But you didn't push me about it, or my parents, so I didn't mind you knowing. It was like you understood what I was thinking in a way." He moved his hands into the wet hair, "I really respected that, you know? So I won't press you about this either unless you want to talk."

Alfred leant his head against England's chest, breathing out deeply. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of the other's hands running through his hair. "Thanks..." He whispered, roping an arm around England's smaller waist. He looked up to meet England's smile, squeezing him slightly before leaning back against his chest. "It's just... well, it's been three years since I did something really stupid. My mom called this morning and brought it all back up again and it really mucked me up. It's stupid really." He sighed, nuzzling in closer to England's touch, "I can't really talk about it. It's difficult. Sorry."

"That's fine." England crouched down to Alfred's eye level, moving his hands onto the other's shoulders. "I won't ask if you don't want me to."

The next thing he knew Alfred had pulled him into an embrace, resting his head on top of England's, nuzzling into the short, messy hair. England froze at the sudden gesture, not knowing what to do now that he'd been pulled so close to Alfred. But it wasn't unpleasant. No, it was quite the opposite, Alfred's arms placed around his waist, holding him gently actually made him feel amazingly comfortable.

"Thank you." Alfred spoke straight into England's ear, sending shivers running down the older man's spine, the tingling sensation lasting a few seconds before finally calming down.

England could feel that his face had flushed, but the heat coming from Alfred's cheek when he rested his head on the smaller man's shoulder indicated that he was equally as flustered, but was considerably better at hiding it in his body language. He felt his hands drop down over Alfred's shoulders unintentionally, but didn't do anything to rectify the action. It was just too damn comfortable being held by him.

Alfred felt England relax finally and held him moved so that the embrace was more comfortable for both of them. He hoped that he wasn't the only one of them whose heart rate had notably increased at the time when he had pulled England closer, especially since the older man had seemed so stiff when the hug had been initiated. But he had returned them embrace, his hands holding lightly to the back of Alfred's still sopping shirt.

"I'm getting you soaked." He chuckled into England's ear, feeling him let go of the shirt briefly before returning to his previous position.

"Yeah." England laughed back, ruffling Alfred's now only damp hair with one hand, sending a few drops showering down.

Alfred moved back, holding England's shoulders at arm's length, still smiling softly. "I'll get a couple of towels."

As soon as Alfred had left the room England let himself fall back to sit of the coffee table. Even without pressing a hand to his chest he could feel his heart thumping against his ribcage. He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears and knew that his face must be matching the whole affair by blushing horribly. He breathed in and out deeply, willing himself to calm down and relax.

That whole incident had pretty much confirmed the feelings that he hadn't been sure of for the last few weeks, and the fact that Alfred had been the one to begin the embrace only confused him further. Did that mean that they had feelings for each other? No. No of course not. That would be ridiculous. They were just friends. Good friends, even.

"You know you look kinda cute when you're flustered." Alfred smirked, reappearing in front of England, holding out a clean towel. He saw England's blush darken even further under the man's embarrassment at being caught while thinking about those kinda of things. He laughed, tossing the towel over England's head, effectively hiding the smaller blonde's face, and, in turn, the expression he was now wearing.

_Oh hell! Who am I kidding?_

_

* * *

_

"It's been over a week." Russia stared down at Gilbert, his eyes boring into him while that smile stayed permanently glued to his lips.

"I know..." Gilbert muttered, not meeting the giant man's gaze.

"Did you tell him that I would be angry?" His voice didn't change. Still calm, yet menacing.

"Of course I did!" He jerked his head up, looking at Russia briefly before turning back to face the ground at the foot of his bike.

"He's still been attending his work." Belarus cut in from her position sitting near to Russia on the platform. "Both Estonia and I have seen him. You'd think that he would have enough sense not to go out if he was going to keep avoiding come to meetings like this."

"True, true." Russia nodded towards his sister. "Well, he's going to have to be taught a lesson in any case." He closed his eyes, leaning back against his bike. "Pity, I would've hoped he had learnt after the incident with Spain and Romano." He looked back at Gilbert, a sly look in his eyes, "Prussia, give him one final warning from me. If England knows what is good for him, then he'll come back."

* * *

"Al, will you, like, stop singing!" Felicks huffed from his position lying over Toris's lap, pen in hand while scribbling notes into his workbook.

The three of them were using their lunch break to finish their work from the morning's lecture, sitting under one of the campus's only unoccupied trees. Toris, who had already completed the work, had relinquished his book to Alfred after he had arrived half way through their second lecture, having completely missed the first.

"Oh, don't be such a downer." Alfred laughed, copying down another phrase from one of the textbooks. "It's one of the few days when we can actually sit outside without freezing our butts off." The late autumn sunshine beat down through the leaves of the tree, which were starting to turn a more golden-brown colour.

"I don't know how you can so, like, totally relaxed after you turned up so late today." The other blonde complained, not removing his eyes from the page.

"It's not like you finished the notes either." Alfred tossed a discarded ball of paper at Felicks, which missed, instead hitting Toris.

"Oh, you're totally asking for it now." Felicks sat up, smirking, and grabbed the paper ball from next to him.

"You're on!" Alfred pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, jumping up.

"Grow up you two..." Toris sighed as the two blondes started kicking the ball between them, laughing like hyenas. "You need to finish these before class starts."

"Ha, yeah, okay." Alfred plopped himself down again in front of his papers, throwing the ball at Felicks a final time.

Felicks ran his hand through his hair, frowning slightly before laying back across Toris's knees. "Hey, comb my hair for me?" He glanced up at Toris, pouting slighting.

"But you always complain when I do your hair." The brunette whined, leaning back on his hands.

"Save it for later you two..." Alfred rolled his eyes at them and continued writing. "Come on, class starts in a few minutes."

Felicks scoffed, picking up his own pen. He nudged Toris, "Yeah, later." Toris spluttered, blushing as Alfred turned to frown at them.

* * *

_Thump._

The last bag was tossed inside the car before the boot lid was closed. "And we're done!" Antonio stretched, rolling his shoulders back. "Thanks for the help, guys."

"Honestly, I swear I do too much for you boys." Francis huffed, tossing his ponytail over his shoulder.

"You're the one with a car." Gilbert clapped the Frenchman on the back, grinning.

"Can we just get going?" Lovino appeared at the front door, his own bag slumped over his shoulder. "We've been hanging around here too long."

"I agree." Francis grumbled, "I should have started charging you rent."

"Aw, but you wouldn't do that, Francis." Antonio drooped his arm over the blonde's shoulders (receiving a dark glare from Lovino in the process), "After all, we're all friends here."

"Maybe I should've charged you then." England leant on the doorframe, a small smile tugging up one corner of his lips. "My flat's a mess thanks to you guys. I'll be glad to see that back of you."

"And we'll miss you too, thanks England." Antonio laughed, moving away from the very disgruntled looking Francis.

England nodded, raising a hand in a half-wave before turning to go back inside. "I'll see you at work then." He called over his shoulder.

"Hey, England, wait!" Gilbert caught up with him before he could close the door.

"You're not going with them?"

"Hell no, I don't have anything to move out." He sniggered, "Besides, I don't want to get caught up in Lovino's argument with West when they get back to their apartment. Antonio let slip that he'd asked Feli and Lud to help them get settled back in, and our little friend wasn't best pleased."

"Ah, fair point." England beckoned him inside, closing the door behind them. "So what did you want?"

"Who said I wanted anything?" Gilbert held up his hands, grinning.

"You don't usually miss out on the opportunity to bully your brother, so something must be up." England raised his eyebrows and started to walk up the stairs in front of his friend. "So what is it?"

"Fine, look." Gilbert held onto England's wrist to stop him from moving. "The boss is getting pretty angry that you haven't been turning up to the meetings. I almost got it in the neck for when I didn't show last week. He said that you're on your last warning."

"Since when did you become his messenger boy?" The blonde scowled down at Gilbert, trying to jerk his wrist away.

"I'm just worried, okay?" He tightened his grip, ignoring the other's protests. "I know that you hate the gang, but you saw what they did to Antonio! We can't take any risks."

"Bullshit." England swore, finally yanking his arm away. "One: _you're_ the biggest risk taker I've ever known, especially when you start arguing with Liza. Two: being in the gang is a risk in itself. And three: I don't care what Russia says. He can do what he wants. Being in that gang is hell and I can't stand it anymore. I have better things to do with my time and so do you."

"So you're just going to-"

"I'm not going to do anything!" England stomped up a couple more steps, "I don't owe him anything, Gil."

"I never said that you owed him!" Gilbert fought back, "I'm just worried you're going to get yourself hurt!"

"You don't need to worry about me." England growled, fuming down at Gilbert.

"I wouldn't normally but you've been acting like such a twat lately that I'm just worried that you're going to something stupid!" The albino spat back.

"Fuck off!"

"Whoa..." A voice whistled from behind them, "Hey, do mind if I come inside, guys? It's started raining."

England jerked his head up, spotting Alfred and Peter standing behind Gilbert in the apartment doorway. His glasses were spattered with a few droplets of water from the rain that could now be heard outside.

He turned on his heel and sprinted up the remaining stairs and out of sight, the sound of a door slamming indicating that he'd gone inside his room.

"That idiot..." Gilbert sighed, running his hand over his head.

"I'll talk to him." Alfred placed a hand on Gilbert's shoulder, his expression serious as he started heading for the stairs.

"Thanks." Gilbert turned to head back out of the door into the rain, "I'll be round at Antonio's if you need to get hold of me. I need to let off some steam."

"Don't tease them too much." Alfred smiled, waving shortly before the door closed. "We're in for quite an evening by the looks of it, eh?" He rolled his eyes at Peter, who readjusted his school hat on his head sheepishly. "Here kiddo." He held out the key to his room. "Head on up and play some video games or something while I try and talk some sense into your brother."

Peter's face lit up at the prospect of being able to play games instead of having to do his homework and bounded up the stairs past Alfred.

"If Kiku knocks then just let him in, okay!" He called up after Peter, chuckling at the boy's enthusiasm, before climbing up the remaining stairs to the third floor.

He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself before knocking on the door. "England? I'm coming in, okay?"

He didn't spot England right away when he entered the room. The smaller blonde was hunched up in the corner of the sofa, clutching hold of his helmet. The sight was almost pitiful, England crouching over like that.

"Hey." Alfred crouched down in front of him, crossing his arms over his knees. "You alright?" He knew it was a stupid question, but it was all he could think to say under the circumstances.

England raised his head, his eyebrows fixed into a frown. Alfred had almost expected the older man to be crying, but wasn't too surprised to see that his green eyes were dry. The hands gripping the helmet had turned white at the knuckles from gripping it so hard and didn't relinquish their hold even when one of Alfred's larger hands was placed on top of them gently.

"Do you want to talk?" Alfred asked calmly, "I won't force you if you don't want to."

"I hate it..." England muttered quietly, dipping his head down again.

"Sorry?" Alfred leaned in closer, one hand still atop of England's, the other resting on the arm of the sofa.

"I hate it!" England's head snapped up again, shouting into Alfred's face, "I fucking _hate_ it! All of this shit! It's pointless!" He stopped to breathe, taking short breaths. "He's already taken my name! What more does he fucking _want?_" He threw his helmet to one side, ignoring the crash as it hit the table in the corner of the room. "I can't take it anymore!" Angry tears had appeared in his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

Seeing this, Alfred shifted to sit on the sofa next to England, pulling him closer so that his head was rested on the taller man's chest. He wrapped his arms around England's smaller form, rubbing one hand in circles on the other's back in an attempt to calm him down.

"Hey, hey, shhh. It's okay." Alfred hushed him, noting that England was now clinging tightly to the front of his shirt. He was trembling slightly, his breaths still coming through in short rasps.

The two of them stayed in that position for a few minutes before England began to calm down, stopping from shuddering and just resting his head against Alfred as the taller blonde kept his arms tightly in place around the smaller man's waist, giving him some form of support.

"You know what?" Alfred spoke up suddenly, tilting England's head up so he could see his face. "If we keep taking turns acting like this people are going to get the wrong idea." He chuckled lightly, receiving a faint smile from England in response.

"Get the wrong idea about what?" England leant his head against Alfred's shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I dunno." He rubbed the back of his neck, flushing slightly. "They might think that we're just a couple of depressed weirdoes." He laughed lightly, feeling England do the same.

"Maybe we are. Antonio and Gil are always telling me that I'm too grumpy for my own good." He glanced up at Alfred, a smile twitching up the corners of his lips.

"That may be true- ow! I was kidding!" Alfred rubbed his head where England had hit him, still chuckling. "Anyway, are you feeling better now?"

"Hmm." England shifted on his shoulder, breathing in again. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Good." Alfred smiled down at the older of the two, catching sight of the bright green eyes. He moved his hand up, brushing England's bangs out of his eyes, and rubbing a thumb over one of those unusually large eyebrows.

"Hey, leave off." England jerked his head away while batting away Alfred's hand, rolling his eyes. "They're nothing to gawk at."

"I wasn't gawking." Alfred frowned, moving his hand back around England's waist. "I'm just looking."

"That's the same thing, git." England chuckled, adjusting himself on the sofa so that he could look at Alfred properly.

Alfred moved to face England again, hanging his arm over the back of the sofa. The older man was slightly flushed in the face, the small smile that rarely graced his lips made him look younger and more his own age than he did when his face was set in its usual frown. More and more often he had found himself drifting into thinking that England was, dare he say it, _cute_. He was good looking, no doubt about it, but the very fact that he found the time he spent with the other man to be more enjoyable with each of their encounters made him nervous as to what he actually thought of England. He couldn't like him that way... But he was comfortable holding him... He was a man!... But he seemed to understand him in a way no one else had... _Aw shit..._

"You really are a strange one." England reached over, running his hand through Alfred's hair, pulling slightly on the one strand of hair that still seemed to be fixed standing apart from the rest of his hair.

"And you're not?" Alfred swatted England's hand away, instead drooping his own back around the other's shoulders.

"True, true." England nodded, chuckling. "Still, there's no point in continuing to mope around like this." He stood up, stretching before turning back to Alfred. "Don't you agree?"

"Ah, yeah." Alfred leaned forward, taking England's hand to help himself up.

"Good."

England turned quickly. So quickly that Alfred almost missed it.

The older man seemed to be in a better mood now. He was smiling at least, and it was a genuine smile, not one of those fake ones that he's seen previously, and definitely not one of those pirate-like sniggers that he often shot towards his other friends. No, this was a sweet smiling that felt like it was so warm that it was actually melting Alfred's insides.

And England had just kissed him on the cheek...


	12. 12 A Series of Misfortunes

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 12_

_

* * *

_

Fire. There was fire. The flames enveloping his skin as he ran through them, desperately trying to find him. The scrap heap was completely ablaze, the stench of burning metal coursing through the air around it as black smoke towered into the sky.

Then he saw it, the one car that hadn't been set alight in the middle of the chaos. And under it was the person he had been searching desperately for.

_Oh, please God, let him be alive!_

His leg was hidden under the vehicle, making it almost impossible to move him at all. The flames were getting closer, now reeking of burning petrol and gas. This was getting too dangerous.

_Crash!_

A wrecked van fell from a nearby pile, its windows smashing and spewing smoke. Debris his hit shoulder, burning through his jacket. Another piece shot through the car's windscreen, landing on the driver's seat, which slowly began to catch fire.

_No. No! Shit-!_

Alfred started awake, his alarm clock blaring in his ear. He scrambled around for the button to shut off the noise before grabbing his glasses and pushing them onto the bridge of his nose, bringing his bedroom into focus.

He rubbed one hand over his forehead and through his hair in an attempt to rid himself of the cold sweat that had covered him during the night. A good hot shower was definitely needed.

The nightmares were getting worse.

* * *

"And that's how you do that!" Alfred threw the pen down onto the table in front of him, grinning down at Peter.

"You make it look so easy!" The younger boy pouted, staring back down at the page, the numbers Alfred had scrawled down standing out against the squared paper. "I never get it right first time."

"Math takes practice." Alfred stretched, leaning back against the sofa lazily. "S'always been my best subject."

"Then why do you study literature?" Peter picked up the pen, continuing with his homework.

Alfred considered the boy for a few seconds, choosing how to answer the question, "Dunno." He concluded. "It's what the family wanted me to do I guess." He scratched the back of his head, looking around to where England had perched himself on one of the kitchen stools, head buried in one of the plays Alfred had been researching. The older man seemed to sense Alfred's eyes on him and glanced up, letting green meet blue for a second before turning back to the book.

There was no need for anyone else to know why Alfred had really taken the subject. England had learned it from one of his outbursts when the stress had built up, but there was definitely no need to enlighten Peter on the topic. It was true that Alfred didn't care for the many works of the different playwrights and novelists, but Matthew had found them so _interesting_. He had loved them. He still did. But he wouldn't be able to carry out his ambition of going to college to finish studying the subject to a high degree after his high school exams. It was impossible now, with his leg permanently strapped up and supported by his crutches. He wouldn't be able to live away from home by himself. Not that their mother would ever allow it after what had happened.

"Al, I don't get this one." Peter's voice whined through Alfred's thoughts, bringing his attention back to the room around him.

"Huh? Oh yeah, right you do it like this." He took the pen from Peter, leaning down towards the coffee table. The page looked blurred, all the numbers melding together in their little squares. It took him a while just to read which question the pre-teen was having trouble with.

"Don't hound him so much Peter." England called out, looking up once more from the book, "Besides it's getting late; you should be going to bed."

"Ooh, but I'm still not finished." Peter moaned, trying to find an excuse for staying up later.

"It's after ten, now go on, hop it. Back downstairs." England folded his arms, showing that his word was final.

Peter looked around to Alfred for support, his eyes wide and pleading. "Your brother's right Pete. I'm getting pretty worn out too." He received a glare from the younger blonde, making him look even more like his older brother than ever, before he gathered up his school equipment and headed for the door.

"I'll be down in a bit." England shook his head, sighing at his brother's stubbornness. "Honestly, that boy."

Alfred laughed lightly, stretching his arms out in front of him, "He's like you, y'know."

"Shut up, git." The smaller man plopped down on the sofa next to the college student, reopening the book. "It's a waste, you know? Just chucking these to one side when you're done with them. They should be _cherished_."

Alfred yawned, glancing at the page England was reading. "I don't understand half the stuff that Shakespeare says, especially all that fairy junk."

"It's not _junk_, it's poetry!"

"Poetry that no one can understand."

"Oh hush." England leant back, resting his legs up on the coffee table, unconsciously touching his knee against Alfred's. "I don't understand how you can be majoring in literature and not enjoy a Midsummer Night's Dream. It's definitely one of his best plays."

Alfred laughed, leaning over to poke at one passage in the book,

"'_Farewell, thou lob of spirits, I'll be gone;  
My queen and all her elves come here anon!' _

Oh come on, all that fairy stuff doesn't make any sense, and there's no way I can take a character called _Bottom_ seriously. It's stupid!"

"You need to start using that over-active imagination of yours for your studies." England prodded Alfred's forehead, finally discarding the book to one side.

"But _fairies-_"

"Yes, _fairies_." England interjected, his voice showing his apparent amusement at Alfred's complaints, "And I'm almost positive that they'd have better manners than you."

"Says the biker." The taller of the two returned the jab, his glasses slipping to one side.

"You really are impossible." England gave up, flopping to the side to rest his head on Alfred's shoulder in mock exhaustion.

"Famous for it." Alfred chuckled, looping his arm around England's shoulders absentmindedly, running his fingers through his shorter sandy hair.

It was one of those oddly content feelings running through Alfred's mind. Just the two of them their felt right. He didn't know why, but it just was. England was the only person who managed to give him that butterfly sensation in the pit of his stomach whenever the older man flashed one of his rare genuine smiles which lit up all of his features. Even his oversized eyebrows somehow seemed to look right on his face (even if they were hilarious to tease the stuffy man about).

England himself was feeling quite hot at the time. He was sure that his face was bright red from Alfred's contact and just preyed that the younger man hadn't noticed. It wasn't that he didn't _like_ Alfred or anything, it was just slightly awkward. He refused to admit that he had intimate feelings for the student. That would be inappropriate given the situation. He was a member of a bike gang that was known to be dangerous. Yes, he hated being in the group, but that was meaningless now that he'd given his name in exchange for membership. And Alfred was a student who had already been put in harm's way enough times thanks to his own reckless behaviour and getting involved in situations where he should have just minded his own business.

_Argh! This was ridiculous!_

Alfred was looking at him now. He could feel those bright cerulean eyes burning into the side of his head and he couldn't help but meet them.

Neither really knew what had caused it, nor who had instigated it. All England knew was that one second his eyes had met Alfred's and the next he had felt his lids close as their lips had met. It was a light touch at first, neither one of them sure of what exactly they were doing. Alfred's hand gently travelled down England's side, finally resting around his waist where the other soon joined it, pulling the shorter man closer. England felt his own arms moving up and looping around Alfred's shoulders, finally deepening the contact between them. And by God could that boy _kiss!_

Of course it wasn't England's first kiss (the events that had taken place while he was in a drunken stupor were better left unmentioned), but this was the first one that actually felt like it had come kind of meaning to it. It actually had some emotion behind it, not just a hollow feeling that both tasted and stank of stale alcohol that he had had the misfortune of tasting in more than one of these unmentioned events.

Alfred's glasses were pushed uncomfortably high on the bridge of his nose, but he didn't care. He had kissed girls before, but they all had fake personalities trying to live up to an image that was plastered all over the covers of magazines and on the television. Back then he hadn't been bothered by this, but now that he was kissing England he knew what it felt like to actually _enjoy_ a kiss. To actually _really_ _want_ to be kissing the other person and it was _amazing_.

England felt the nip on his lip as Alfred requested entrance, the heat of his mouth intensifying when he granted the request, the other's tongue immediately exploring every inch of his own mouth. The fight for dominance was lost when Alfred finally pushed England back on the sofa, taking positioning looking down on the smaller blonde, not breaking the kiss even for a second. That is until a phone started ringing.

"Fuck." England grumbled, moving his head away and pulling his mobile out of his pocket, reading the number on the display. "Sorry." He gave Alfred an apologetic look before moving to sit up, answering the call.

Alfred couldn't work out what had brought it on. He'd kissed England. Why? Why had he done that? _Because you wanted to dammit!_

He pushed the voice to the back of his head, although the nagging feeling he kept getting when it resurfaced started making more and more sense.

He shook it off, instead deciding to watch England's side of his phone call. The blonde was obviously irritated; anyone could have known that just by glancing at him. He had one hand to his forehead while the other held his phone (a little too firmly) to his ear, displacing his hair even more from its usual messy state. Even with his overly large eyebrows creased into a frown he looked kind of cute. (_Dammit! Stop thinking like that!_)

No. He couldn't very well deny it now. For pity's sake, he'd just kissed the man! And now he was trying to deny any feelings? _Man, what _am_ I doing to myself?_

Besides, he didn't even know if England felt the same. The older man was hard enough to read. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking at the best of times and his mood could swing from high to low in the blink of an eye. Hell, he didn't even know the guy's real name! ...But he was just picking holes…

"Al?" England voice cut through his thoughts, green eyes focused back onto blue.

"Huh? What's wrong?" Alfred jumped, trying not to seem so tense.

"I need to get going." England sighed, glancing down at his mobile before looking back at Alfred. "That was Tino. There's been an emergency down at the surgery and they need all the help they can get."

"Oh. Oh right." Alfred stammered, not sure how to answer, "This late at night?"

The other nodded, frowning slightly. "He didn't tell me what had actually happened, just to get down there." He paused, his vision travelling between Alfred at the apartment door before standing up, closely followed by Alfred.

"England, I-"

"I really should get going, Al." England swivelled round, smiling lightly. "Can we talk later?"

"I was going to say that I could come with you and help." He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

"Really?" England's smile remained on his lips but frowned slightly, showing his surprise at the younger man's comment. "Are you sure? I'm taking my bike."

"You're the one who said they needed help."

"Yes, but I didn't mean-"

"Oh come on! You can't deny a hero his duty!" Alfred pumped his fist into the air in mock enthusiasm.

"You really are a strange one." England elbowed him in the ribs, chuckling lightly, "Well if you must. I just need to let Peter know." He hesitated for a second or two before reaching up and pecking Alfred on the forehead quickly and then grabbing the door handle. "I'll meet you downstairs."

England exited the room quickly, willing his blush to disappear before he bumped into anyone by accident. Especially if that person was Francis. He'd never hear the end of it.

He opened the door to his own flat, peering around Peter's bedroom door to spot his little brother playing on one of his games consoles instead of getting ready for bed. After a short lecture from the older sibling, Peter finally grumbled his way into putting his pyjamas on.

"I'll be back in about an hour." England called, heading back towards the door. "Please be in bed by then."

He grabbed his helmet and closed the door behind him, making his way downstairs and knocking on Francis's door. The Frenchman answered with his hair dripping around his shoulders, wearing a dressing-gown and looking rather disgruntled.

"What is it? I was in the bath." His accent heavily framing his words.

"Keep an eye on Peter for me. Emergency at work." England quickly rattled off, leaving Francis little choice but to go along with what he wanted.

"Can't Alfred-"

"He's coming with me."

"But-"

"Can't you just do it Francis? I won't be all that long." He started fumbling with the helmet in his hands.

"Fine." Francis sighed, shaking his wet hair out of his face, "But this really is the last time."

"You can be a lifesaver when you want to be." England clapped the older man on the back and turned to leave.

"Don't do anything stupid." Francis shouted after him, before closing his door again. "It's going to be one of _those_ evenings then…" He sighed to himself, picking up a discarded towel and running it over his head.

* * *

Alfred was already standing outside when England exited the apartment building. In the time since England had left his apartment he'd managed to acquire a helmet of his own, much to the biker's dismay.

Alfred seemed to notice the other's confusion and grinned in answer, "I _did_ tell you that I've mucked around with my fair share of junk."

"So you're used to biking then?" England swung his leg over his bike, zipping up his jacket. He pulled his own helmet over his head and gripped the handlebars, kicking the starter.

"Not for a few years." Alfred hesitated in stepping toward the bike, lifting the headgear up to his face.

"Well get on then." England overlooked the younger man's behaviour, beckoning him to get on the bike behind him. "And hold on tight. I ride fast."

It was a sensation that Alfred knew and loved. The wind whipping up past his shoulders and roaring in his ears, moving his clothes so that they were flat against his skin and so that his jacket billowed out slightly behind him. The seat of the bike was hard and he gripped it tightly, feeling the cold rush over his knuckles and up his sleeve. He clamped his knees to the sides of the bike, trying to keep himself steady but not be off-putting for England as the older man swerved around corners at such a speed that the two of them didn't end up skidding off the vehicle and into some alley wall that the biker had decided to turn down.

England himself didn't seem at all phased by the speed at which he was driving. Even with Alfred clinging to the seat behind him he appeared to be relaxed as he chucked the bike around each bend. He stopped once, picking up a package which he stowed in the box on the back of the bike and then he was off again, still as poised as ever as the bike screeched through the maze of back alleys that he knew only too well.

"We're here." England's helmeted head turned to face Alfred, shutting off the bike's engine as he did so and propped it up on its stand.

"England!" Tino's voice rang out as the young doctor appeared at the entrance to the clinic. "Thank God! Did you get the stuff? Oh, Alfred came too? That's good. We could use the extra hands." He rushed his words before grabbing the package from England's hands and rushing back inside, expecting the other two to follow.

Inside Tino had apparently gone to join Berwald in treating their emergency patient, leaving England and Alfred to wait in the lobby for when they would be needed. It was a small building with a waiting room big enough for five seats in front of a desk where Elizabeta was slumped over, dozing lightly. There were three doors leading out of the room for the surgery's doctors, of which only Berwald's was currently occupied as it was the largest. One other man was also sitting in the lobby, his eyes directed at the door to the room that Tino had disappeared into. His brown hair stood up in one place similarly to Alfred's but curled slightly. England greeted him with a nod before taking the seat opposite, sliding his helmet underneath it.

"Gil's not here then?" England broke the silence in the room, noting that the other member of the delivery team was absent.

"Not as of yet." The man stated clearly, not moving his gaze from Berwald's office door.

"Any idea where he is?" England looked over his shoulder, beckoning Alfred to sit down.

"Guess." Elizabeta raised her head off the desk, glaring over at England. "Where do you think he is?"

"Oh." England looked back at the floor, not wanting to provoke the receptionist any further.

"It's ridiculous!" She continued, "You would think that he would do more to help."

"Don't go on about it Liza." The man looked over at Elizabeta, giving her a tired smile. "Gilbert's always been a bit wild."

"But he's your cousin, honey." She slumped back in her chair, still frowning, "I don't understand how you can be so lenient with him, Roderich."

Roderich stood up, brushing off his white doctor's coat. "At least his brother's more responsible. Ludwig seems to be happy with how his studies are going."

"He's got Feli keeping him under control." Elizabeta chuckled, the image of Lovino's twin dancing around the tall blonde figure of Ludwig was almost too clear a picture in her mind.

"Let's keep family affairs for later, shall we?" Tino poked his head around the door, looking around the waiting room. "Can we have your help for a second, Roderich? Berwald's trying to stitch up the wound and Raivis keeps getting in the way."

"Yes, yes. I'm coming." Roderich got up and quickly swept away into the other room, leaving the other three alone in the lobby.

Elizabeta stood up, gathering together some papers which she placed into a file. Her long brown hair was pinned back with its usual flower clip but hung slightly limp from where she had been leaning on her desk. Her clothes were creased and didn't match, making the urgency of the matter all the more evident (her trousers were definitely pyjama bottoms). The beginnings of dark circles were forming under her large green eyes, emphasising how tired she must have been, having been pulled out to work so late at night.

Alfred placed his helmet on a nearby table which had magazines scattered over it and plopped himself down in the chair next to England. The older man kept glancing at the clock, mentally noting the time every couple of minutes, occasionally watching the second hand travel around the clock face.

Something brushed against Alfred's hand causing him to jump slightly and jerk away before he could look down. England had caught hold of his hand and was squeezing it tightly, not even letting go when Alfred had pulled his arm to one side. He squeezed back, looking back up to give the older man a quick smile before turning his gaze to look aimlessly around the room.

"They'll be wanting your help soon." Elizabeta spoke up, making them both jump. She chuckled lightly before her expression turned serious again. "The guy they're working on is quite big and he got hit hard so they'll need a hand supporting him. I imagine that you're quite the handy man, Alfred?" She smiled again, brushing her hair out of her eyes and waiting for the door to open.

The noises from the next room were quiet but still ever present in the silence of the reception area. Elizabeta had taken to sorting out more paperwork while Alfred and England sat in the seating area (still holding hands) trying not to listen too hard to the painful groans of the patient; it made Alfred wonder if they were even using anaesthetic.

Eventually, after a few more minutes, the door open and Tino made his way back out of the office, handing over some scribbled notes to Elizabeta and speaking to her in hurried whispers as she wrote down all the information that she needed to fill in the file. He turned to the other two, still unsmiling, and jerked his head towards the door, "We need some help moving him to the bed." He stretched his arms above his head, "We managed to get him here alright, but it was a lot of hassle. I wouldn't have called you otherwise."

"It's alright." England stood up, dragging Alfred with him. "I'm used to your calls at random hours of the night, but the frog is getting fed up with having to look after Peter."

"After all these years of looking after you two, you'd think he'd be used to it." Tino laughed, holding the door open for the other two.

Alfred made his way inside, nodding in greeting to Berwald and following the taller man's gesture towards the man on the bench who was evidently the patient. His dark blonde hair was slick with sweat and dishevelled from an obvious struggle. His shirt hung open and was spattered with blood, most of which had soaked into one sleeve which had been sliced down the length, showing a long wound. The knees of his jeans were ripped open, displaying the scrapes running down his legs. Dried blood covered a small portion of his forehead, forcing him to keep one eye closed while the other drooped wearily from the exhaustion of whatever had happened to him.

England had stopped dead in the doorway, his eyes fixated on the person slumped in front of him, more specifically, the cut on his arm. The man seemed to feel the eyes watching him and looked up to meet England's gaze, the one eye he could open widening when he caught sight of the smaller biker.

"You-!" He managed to choke out, sitting up a little too suddenly before Berwald and Roderich rushed to support him. "What're _you_ doing here?"

"That's what _I_ should be asking." England spat, glaring at the man who was now being leant back against the head support of the bench. "You're one of the last people I expected to end up with that. What happened to the loyal Estonia?"

"This is punishment." Estonia flopped back against the pillows, using Berwald's arm for support.

"Eduard didn't a-agree with what Russia was doing." England almost jumped when Raivis spoke up from the corner. He had forgotten that the boy was staying with Tino and Berwald for the time being. His mousy hair was sticking up awkwardly, obviously indicating that he'd recently gotten out of bed, despite how late it was.

"And what _is_ Russia doing?" England scowled, looking between the two ex-bikers.

"He's angry." Eduard shifted on the bench again, finding it hard to focus on England without his glasses. "I wasn't the only one he lashed out at this time. But there's no time for this!" He suddenly tried to get up again, this time being held up by Alfred, who was the closest to the bench. "You need to leave! He's angry because you haven't been turning up to the meetings!" He shook off Alfred and staggered to his feet. "You need to go home! Your brother-"

"What about Peter?" England jerked his head up, looking at Eduard in all seriousness.

"A group of us tried to stop him, but he overpowered us. Belarus is tougher than she looks as well."

"Get to the fucking point!" England yelled, his temper fraying.

"Your punishment." Eduard said simply. "He's going after your brother."

England froze. His mind going completely blank. He hadn't expected the boss to go as far as that. He'd thought that he was going to be marked, that much was obvious, but to go for Peter, that was low. But that much was to be expected of Russia. He was a man of whom no one knew what he was thinking behind that smile and those eyes.

"Sorry if it's not my place," Alfred suddenly spoke up, having been forgotten by the others while they had been talking. "But this boss of yours, what's he actually like? You've never actually told me."

England turned to look at him. Alfred, despite his usual cool and collected nature, looked unexpectedly nervous upon hearing what Eduard had said. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and he wasn't meeting anyone's gaze, instead looking firmly at the floor.

"I didn't think that it was something you should be concerned about." England spoke softly, trying to hide his own worry.

"I want to know." Alfred still wouldn't look at him.

"He's cold." Eduard spoke up, answering Alfred's request. "Like ice. And it's impossible to tell what he's thinking." He paused, as if waiting for one of the others to carry on, but neither did. "He always wears black, apart from his scarf, which he always has with him."

"And he's really tall." Raivis cut in over Eduard, "Like Berwald, but scary." Berwald reached over to ruffle the boy's hair, pushing down slightly in an affectionate manner, like a father.

"But the thing that always gets me is," Eduard continued, his brow furrowing slightly as he pictured the gang leader, "it never changes no matter whether he is angry or not-"

"His smile." England finished, glaring up towards the ceiling. "He always smiles without fail. That's what makes him so terrifying."

He looked back at Alfred, who, if possible, looked ever worse. He looked almost stunned from shock. His hands were clenched into fists so tightly that it looked like his nails would cut through his skin.

"Al? Are you-?" England's phone started ringing, cutting him off midsentence.

"What's wrong?" He answered, skipping hellos.

Francis's voice could be heard over the phone's small speaker, his accent making it harder to understand what he was saying.

"_Zhey broke in!"_ He shouted.

"Who broke in?"

"_You know who!"_ The Frenchman sounded desperate. _"Zhey broke into your room and took 'im!"_

"What?" England looked widely up at Alfred, then at Eduard.

"_Zhey took Peter! Jesus, you need to open your ears, you-"_

England hung up, his hand shaking as he attempted to put his mobile back in his pocket. His face had turned white, emphasising his eyes more than usual.

He turned abruptly, sprinting from the room. He grabbed his helmet from under the chair where he had left it, not stopping to listen to Elizabeta's questions and left the surgery as fast as he could. Before he could reach his bike, however, a hand reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a halt.

Alfred stood behind him, holing him firmly to the spot.

"What're you-?"

"I'm coming too." He said quickly.

"You've got to be joking! There's no way-!"

"I'm coming." He cut off England's protests, making his own way toward the bike. "They took Peter, right? We need to hurry."

"Fine." England scowled, pulling his helmet on. "But this isn't going to be pretty."

"I know." Alfred swung himself on the bike behind the smaller man, his helmet already in place.

England revved the bike into gear, setting off with a screech down the narrow alley opposite the building. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what Russia could have done, sinking uncomfortably towards the worst scenario.

"It'll be fine!" Alfred shouted over the engine noise, squeezing the biker's waist quickly.

"You'd better be right." He spun around another corner, knowing only too well where he was heading to.


	13. 13 Secrets

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 13_

_

* * *

_

The group was thinning even as he looked over it. Many had run after he had lashed out at Estonia and the other rebels, but if they didn't follow him to the last then they could go to hell for all he cared. This was retribution. England had disobeyed him, so he was going to be punished. And what better way to punish him than to target what he cared about most.

Belarus still stood at the front, watching him carefully, her eyes barely even blinking. She was loyal, even if the others weren't. Every now and then she would turn her head to look briefly at the boy who was now tied down in a corner, his face lit by one dim headlamp for her bike.

Peter looked smaller than ever. He was still dressed in his pyjamas from when he had been dragged out of the apartment by Belarus with Russia following closely behind, smiling that icy cold smile. Francis had quickly been shoved out of the way, given little choice but to watch them carry the boy away on one of the bikes as other members surrounded him, all carrying their signature lead piping. The leader had seemed even bigger than he had remembered, towering over the small pre-teen after knocking the door open and finding the boy sitting awake in his bedroom, games console in hand. It had been terrifying.

Russia followed his sister's eyes to rest on the boy again. His smile widened upon violet meeting the cool blue of Peter's eyes. "Don't look so scared. I'm sure your brother will be here soon. Your French friend will have made sure of that." He moved over to crouch in front of the boy, his smile unwavering. "You really look like your brother. Let me see." He tilted Peter's chin up, observing his face. "Hmm. Well, if your brother is England, and you being as small and insignificant as you are, then you must be Sealand. Children like you can't be countries after all." Peter glared up at the gang leader, causing his grin to grow even further. "Oh come now, we can't be having that. I might do something even more drastic." He pushed Peter's head back down, rising to take his place at the front of the group again.

"He will come, won't he?" Belarus spoke up, taking a step towards her brother.

"Oh yes." Russia looked across the group, as small it now was. "I'm counting on it. After all, we have his _precious_ little brother." The female biker smiled, taking a seat on the platform next to where her brother was standing.

"You're a sadistic bastard!" Peter shouted from his place in the corner.

"Aah, you've inherited your brother's potty mouth." Russia chuckled, "Prussia, I know you're there. Shut him up or I will."

Gilbert emerged from around a corner at the back of the group, wheeling his bike alongside him, helmet hung over the handlebars. He leant his bike on the wall and made his way over to where Peter was tied down. He crouched down, wrapping his arm around the boy and whispered to him, trying to calm him down.

It was starting to get late, the time heading more and more towards midnight each time Russia checked the clock on his phone. He was a patient man, but this was taking far too long. He knew England was going to come, it was just a matter of waiting for when the man would find out what had happened and how long it would take him to get there, and with England being as irritable as he was, the wait would not be much longer.

"Here he comes." Russia spoke up quietly, just loud enough for the group to hear him. He saw Peter tense in the corner and Gilbert give the boy a quick squeeze, his red eyes fixed on the small opening to the courtyard.

The rumble of an engine was getting louder, echoing down the maze of alleys that led to the area. It truly was an obstacle trying to find the meeting grounds for the group if one didn't know which route to take. It was what made it so hard for the police to find them if they caused too much of a ruckus. Russia had picked it out knowing this, but knew that once the alleys were memorised then the members of the group would be able to get there without any problem. Indeed the only member who had ever had trouble finding them had been Latvia, but he had been dealt with.

There was a screech of brakes as the bike skidded around the final corner, its headlamp blaring down the narrow alley and practically blinding the people at the back of the group. The bike sped into the clearing, scattering the gang members as they scurried out of its path and came to a halt in front of the platform where Russia stood, totally unfazed by its sudden appearance.

"England." Russia greeted England as he stepped off his bike, removing his helmet. "I didn't expect you to bring a guest with you."

"Don't mind him." England glared up at the gang leader, the shadows of the area emphasising the furrow of his brow. "Your dispute is with me, is it not?"

"True, true." Russia nodded, his smile once again growing on his lips. "But I had hoped that it would not take as much as this for you to attend a meeting again."

"Let Peter go." England took another step forward, his eyes flickering between the giant man in front of him and his brother crouched in the corner with Gilbert.

"Hmm? But if I did that then you would just leave, and I can't allow that now, can I?"

"Look, I don't care what you do to me!" England yelled, causing Belarus to jump up from her position sitting on the edge of the platform. "Just let him go!"

"How reckless, England." Russia's eyes seemed to sparkle dangerously as he spoke, his grin unchanging. "Do you realise what you are suggesting?"

"Of course I do." The blonde spat out, now looking anywhere but at Russia or his brother. He didn't want to see the look Peter was wearing, or the smile that he knew Russia was wearing. "It's not like I have a choice."

"No, you don't." Russia's voice was suddenly very serious, though his expression hadn't changed. He moved away from his bike, leaning his trademark lead pipe against it, and approached the edge of the platform and crouched down, surveying the smaller man in front of him. "Your options are fairly simple though, England. I'm surprised that you haven't already realised what they are."

"Just get on with it."

"Fine, fine." He stood again, towering down over England. "It's your choice after all. Either you attend every meeting from now on without fail, or I'll mark you. It's as simple as that, and whichever you decide on I'll let you _beloved_ little brother go. I know which one I'd prefer you to choose."

"Then do it." England stretched out his arm, still not looking up at the taller man.

"What? England don't!" Gilbert jumped up from where he had been sitting with Peter, the shock evident on his face. Belarus was behind him quickly, one hand covering his mouth, the other holding her own bar against the back of his neck in a warning, hissing threats into his ear.

"Very well then." Russia stepped down off of the platform, still looming over England, but seemed to be all the more dangerous. He pulled a knife out from underneath his long coat, flapping it back into place in one movement.

"Just tell me one thing first." England looked up, his eyes were calm but the rest of his face betrayed his panic.

"Yes?" Russia lowered the knife again, tilting his head in an almost childlike manner.

"If- if I do this…" He hesitated, turning his face away again and allowing his bangs to cover his eyes. "If I do this, will you give me my name back?"

Russia chuckled. The man in front of him looked so incredibly small looking down at the ground in such a manner. His arm was still raised, but had fallen slightly since he had first offered it to the gang leader. It almost looked as if he was going to change his mind. But England was proud and Russia knew that only too well. He had always made a note to learn the personalities of the members of his group, whether he liked them or not. And he most definitely did _not_ like England.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Russia snickered. "Names are very valuable and I charge a hefty price for them. You should have thought more carefully about throwing yours away."

"Fine." England raised his arm again, keeping his head turned away and his eyes squeezed shut, anticipating the pain that was going to follow.

But it didn't come. Russia was frozen in place, his own bar held up to his neck. His smile wavered slightly but stayed in place. "Well now, this is a surprise."

"Touch him and I swear you'll come off worse."

Alfred had been totally forgotten while England and Russia had been talking and had used this to be able to get behind the gang leader. Even though he was still wearing his helmet it was easy to tell that he was angry. He was gripping the bar so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He was shorter than Russia, but the gang leader didn't loom over him like he did with anyone else. England could just about pick out the blue of the younger man's eyes through the helmet visor, dark with anger and closed into slits so that the whites were barely visible.

"If you're going to grace our presence, at least remove your helmet." Russia remained calm, looking over his shoulder at the shadow of the man behind him. "It's common manners."

He pulled the helmet off with his free hand, making sure not to slacken his grip on the bar. Alfred's hair had been flattened slightly from wearing the headgear, but still managed to have the one cowlick still sticking up defiantly. Light glinted in his glasses, temporarily hiding his eyes from view before revealing the blue orbs to the group.

Belarus audibly gasped from where she was standing, stepping out from behind Gilbert so she had a better view of the front of the platform. Russia's grin, in possible, seemed to grow even further, though his eyes remained hard and cold. He finally forced Alfred into lowering the bar so that he could turn around and face the man behind him.

"Alfred F. Jones." The way Russia spoke sent shivers running down England's spine but Alfred seemed to be unfazed, meeting the taller man's gaze with his own glare. "Well, it really has been too long."

"Not long enough." Alfred's voice was stiff and forced, as if he was trying not to break.

England could only stare at the two men in front of him. How on earth could they know each other? Alfred was just some naïve kid who stuck his nose into other people's business and Russia was a violent gang leader. This was ridiculous!

But then, thinking about it, what did he really know about Alfred's past? He had met his younger brother, yes, and found out about his parent's divorce, but he didn't know the reason behind anything. No real details, no actual facts. And from looking at the situation that was now developing before his eyes, did he even know who Alfred really was?

"When did you get glasses?" Russia continued, disregarding Alfred's previous comment.

"Some time after then." The two walked in a slow circle until Alfred was standing next to England again, carefully positioning the bar between the two of them and Russia's still poised knife.

"I see." He looked the younger man up and down, surveying his appearance. "This really is an unexpected reunion, especially after the events, how many years ago was it now?"

"Three."

"Three years?" Russia's voice seemed reminiscent for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to the people standing in front of him. "And judging from your expression, you didn't expect to find us here either."

Alfred stayed silent, his eyes flicking to Belarus for a second before looking back at Russia. "No." He said finally, still frowning deeply.

"Well, this certainly changes things." Russia appeared to be considering the situation, adding up his own options in his head.

"Alfred, what's going on?" England finally found his voice, taking the opportunity to speak while the other two were silent. "You know each other?"

"You really know how to choose your friends, don't you Jones?" Russia chuckled at England's confusion, looking between the two men. "You never told him?"

"Of course not." Alfred spat back, "What did you expect?"

"What happened to your backbone?" He really did laugh this time, not removing his eyes from Alfred. "When did you become a coward?"

Alfred finally seemed to lose his nerve and looked away from Russia, not wanting to see the man accusing him of being scared. He had that nagging feeling in his mind telling him that the man was right, that he was indeed a coward, but he didn't want to admit it to himself. He was a hero! Someone who helped people. Not someone who ran away from their own past.

He braced himself for what he knew was coming next, gripping the bar he was still holding even tighter and feeling his nails dig into the palm of his hand around the piping.

"This kid," Russia began, finding pleasure in the pain this was obviously causing Alfred, "was my number two until the incident three years ago."

Alfred closed his eyes. It was finally out in the open and there was nothing he could do about it. He could feel the eyes of the entire group on him, but especially those of England's deep green ones and he knew that if he looked at them he would see that hurt expression that he knew only too well from other people. He couldn't stand the thought of England looking at him like that too.

"Is that true, Al?" England voice broke through the silence. It was shaking slightly, giving away the look on his face that Alfred refused to look at.

He nodded in response, still not wanting to look up and see the smug look he knew Russia was now wearing and the shock he was certain was present on England's face.

"Alfred Jones, Ivan Braginski and his half-sister Natalia Arlovskaya. The top three." Alfred's voice shook as he spoke, knowing that his former partner was grinning at his discomfort. "Are you happy now?" He glared up at Russia, all light vanishing from his eyes.

"Quite." Russia's smile didn't falter once; he remained as calm as ever, apparently content with the suffering he was evidently causing. "However I have one more spanner to add to the works. Did you really believe that I didn't know that you had moved here? Living in that dingy little apartment building and attending college. It seems almost too perfect for you." He waited for a response, but continued when none came, "You see Jones, Belarus- ah, Natalia saw you a little while back, and being as good as she is, she told me straight away."

Belarus beamed from where she stood, taking a few steps closer to her brother. "That's what it means to be loyal." She drawled, her pride seeming to peek.

"You haven't changed then." Alfred shot the comment at her but it just seemed to wash over her as she continued to revel in the attention Russia had given her. "And neither have you." He turned his attention back to the leader of the group, his brow furrowing further, "You're still as violent as ever. I thought that after what happened you might have reformed, but I see I was wrong."

"Which means that you haven't changed all that much either." Russia grinned back, his words dripping in malice. "I seem to have changed my mind, England." He turned to the smaller man, who started at his sudden address. "You can take your brother and go. But don't come back. You know what will happen if you do. You too Prussia." He glanced over his shoulder at the two who were still positioned in the corner. "Someone untie the boy." He jerked his head towards Peter, watching someone scramble out of the group and loosen the bonds that were holding him. "I'd go quickly if I were you, before I come to my senses. I want to have words with dear Alfred."

"But-" England began, reaching out to hold onto Alfred's arm but was brushed off.

"Do as he says." Alfred's voice lacked any of its usual warmth as he turned to face the older man. "You need to get Peter out of here. It's too dangerous."

"He's right, England." Russia cut in, his satisfaction seemingly growing. "I'd listen to the boy, if I were you."

"But-" He cut himself off this time, looking between Alfred and his brother, not quite knowing what to do.

"I'll be fine." Alfred seemed to know what he was thinking, but his voice wasn't reassuring in the slightest. "I've had to deal with this guy more than you know. Go home."

"C'mon." England felt the hand placed on his shoulder and whipped around to see Gilbert standing beside him, supporting Peter on his hip with the other hand. The boy was exhausted from the ordeal and had practically fallen asleep as soon as the ropes had been cut off of him. "I'll take Peter on my bike."

"I can't just-" England began but stopped when he saw the looks both Gilbert and Alfred gave him. He sighed, gripping his helmet tightly in both hands before pulling it back over his head.

Gilbert positioned Peter on the back of his bike, taking care that he was awake enough to hold on properly before he set off, the engine noises screeching loudly through the alleyways before disappearing with their last few echoes.

"Oh, and England." Russia stopped the blonde from starting his bike, "What I said about your name still stands, of course." He kicked England's bike into gear and let go of his shoulder, allowing him to drive back off into the night.

Russia glanced at Alfred, smirked, then sat back on the edge of the platform, surveying him. Once again Alfred was glaring up at him. He was still holding Russia's piping, not leaving an opening for the man to take it back and use it to his own advantage. He'd gotten England and the others out of there, that was the important thing. Now he just had to deal with whatever the gang leader wanted.

"I heard you'd disappeared from there." Alfred's voice was low and almost inaudible. "I got the blame for it all."

"That's what you wanted." Russia spoke lightly, as if the subject wasn't important.

"And what do _you_ want." He was getting impatient. Not good. The way to deal with this man was to outlast his patience. Losing his temper was not going to do him any favours.

"You ask that, but you should already know." Russia raised his eyebrows, trying to goad Alfred into losing his cool. It always had been so easy to control the boy's emotions; it was like pulling the strings of a puppet.

"I'm not joining you again." Alfred's words were firm, losing all traces of the nervousness he had had minutes before. "I gave all of this up back then."

"That's a shame." Russia sighed, the smile still not leaving his face, "Even though I got you a present for when we finally met again." He nodded to someone at the side and they hurried out of sight. "Because I'm nice, I'll let you see it before you make your final decision."

The biker reappeared wheeling in an old burnt out motorcycle. Most of the dark blue paint had flaked off, revealing patches of rust off over the bodywork. The handlebars were bent out of place, the rubber grips missing completely. The headlamp was smashed and some of the broken glass was sticking out of the front tyre which was worn out and deflated, much like the back wheel. What wasn't rusty was covered in burns where flames had once lapped at the bike. Part of the seat had been blown off from when the fuel had set alight before the fire spread to the rest of the vehicle. It wasn't a pretty sight.

"We found it in the woods at the back of that old park that you used to visit a lot." Russia put a hand on Alfred's shoulder, following the younger man's vision to the old bike. "I was hoping that you'd appreciate the gesture."

"You're- you're sick, you know that?" Alfred muttered, his eyes not leaving his old bike. "There's no way that you think that this would change anything!"

"No. No, you're right there." Russia nodded, leaving Alfred's side to circle around the crippled bike, "You made up your mind when you set this on fire. What did you call it back then? Your 'Pride and Joy'? 'Liberty' wasn't it?"

"Shut up." Alfred hissed, glaring at the man in front of him.

"But then you destroyed your 'Freedom'."

"Shut up!"

"How's your brother, by the way?"

Alfred lunged forward, swinging the pipe around but Russia was ready and caught it easily, pulling it out of Alfred's grip and throwing it to one side before grabbing hold of the ex-biker.

Alfred heard the ripping sound as the knife made its way through his shirt, revealing the bandaging on his waist. "Ah, here it is." Russia tore the wadding off so that the scarring was visible. "You tried to hide it? Pity…" He ran his forefinger along the length of the white line, enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "I didn't even make this one." He noted. "You got it in the fire, didn't you? Before you ran away? Shame…" He moved the knife up, running the flat of it down Alfred's arm. "Guess what happens next."

He felt the knife turn in Russia's hand and travel down his arm, but he didn't really register what was happening. There was something hot and wet running down where the blade had been and moved his fingers slightly as it dripping off their tips. But his mind was blank. All he could do was what for the pain to end as Russia finally pulled away, looking as manic as ever, his eyes wild with sadistic pleasure.

The words that were said to him washed over his head and he didn't really hear them as he was pushed towards the exit of the clearing, guided by the gang leader's larger hand on his shoulder.

Then something was pushed into his hand and his mind was pulled back to the present.

"Give that to England." Russia smirked. "That's your reward for showing your face again." He let go of him, letting him stagger a few paces forward before calling after him, "Oh and you know where to go if you need to find me."

* * *

Alfred didn't really remember walking home. He remembered turning some corners and then being back in front of the apartment block.

There were lights on inside the building, despite it being so late at night. He walked the last few steps towards the front door before it was yanked open in front of him and he was pulled inside.

Someone loud was shouting at him in German, pushing him up the stairs to the third floor before he was shoved inside another room. "What the _fuck_ do you think you were playing at?" Ah, he understood that sentence.

Gilbert was standing in front of him, hands perched angrily on his hips and his brows furrowed so deeply that his eyes had become red slits.

"He's bleeding, Gilbert!" Another, more panicked voice.

"Oh shit! Are you alright?"

His arm was pulled out in front of his as someone inspected the wound that ran down it. He felt himself take in a sharp breath as they touched the cut, the pain bringing him back to his senses.

"Alfred? I said are you alright?" Gilbert peered into his face, causing Alfred to jump back in surprise, hitting the wall behind him.

"He's obviously not alright!" Francis was there now, guiding him towards the sofa. "What is it with you lot and getting covered in blood? All this worry is going to make me ugly."

"Oh yes, and that's the worst of our problems."

"I did not mean that, and you know it!"

"Where's England?"

"Because the whole world revolves around your beauty" Gilbert's words were etched full of sarcasm.

"Oh please, _cher._ You're just jealous."

"Guys, where's England?"

"Why would anyone be jealous of _you_?"

"Guys!" Alfred's voice finally cut through the argument, though it was tired and hoarse. "Where's England?"

"You need to rest." Francis sighed, pushing Alfred back against the sofa, "The young master is looking after Peter."

"The _young master_ is wondering what all the shouting is about." England was standing in the doorway of Peter's bedroom, looking between the three people occupying his living room. His hair was even messier than usual, looking as if he had run his hands through it numerous times and was sticking up in awkward places.

The others remained silent, Alfred averting his eyes so he didn't have to look at England's face. Gilbert fidgeted slightly, shuffling from one foot to the other and looking aimlessly around the room, knowing only too well that England's glare was directed mostly at him and Francis. The Frenchman, however, approached the younger man, looking around him into Peter's room, checking on the pre-teen.

"He's still in shock, I think." England muttered, turning to face into the room so that Alfred and Gilbert couldn't hear him. "He'll be okay, won't he?" Francis placed a hand on his shoulder, giving England a weak smile. "Can you take him to Tino and Berwald? I don't know whether Russia did anything more to him and I'm worried. They should still be at the surgery and I'll call ahead to make sure if you want me to."

"Shh. Shh. England, it's alright. I will take him." Francis silenced him, once again giving Peter a worried glance before heading into the small bedroom and picking up the boy and exiting. He grabbed the back of Gilbert's jacket as he walked past, dragging the German behind him, much to his discomfort. "Come on, _you_ need to phone dear Roderich for once. I will not accept any complaints."

The door closed with a click, leaving Alfred alone in the apartment with England. The quiet was uncomfortable and Alfred could feel the pain rising in his arm again, the blood sticking horribly to the sleeve of his jacket and drying on the back of his hand where it hand run down his arm's length.

England moved further into the room before coming to a halt standing in front of the younger man. Alfred still couldn't look up, afraid of what he might see. England was probably glaring at him again and he couldn't blame him for it. He could see the man's feet in front of him, unmoving. He was probably waiting for him to say something, but he couldn't think of anything that would improve the situation. It was hard to believe that only hours before they had been laughing and having a good time while helping Peter with his homework and then they had kissed. But then he had wrecked it all by getting mixed up in all that again.

"Let me see it." England sat down next to Alfred, holding out his hand.

"What?" Alfred finally looked up, meeting England's gaze. To his surprise, the other man didn't look angry at all. Quite the contrary, in fact, he looked quite calm.

"Your arm." England spoke frankly, waiting for Alfred to comply. "He cut it, didn't he? I can see the blood."

"Oh. Yeah, alright." He removed his jacket, revealing the long red line running down him arm under his torn shirt. It was still bleeding slightly, the flow increasing when the jacket was removed, soaking into the remains of the shirt sleeve further.

"Don't move it." England stood up again, moving into the kitchen. Alfred heard him turn on the tap and get something out of a cupboard before returning to the sofa with a bowl of water and an old rag in hand and some bandages under his arm. "Hold still."

Alfred flinched, feeling the wet rag rub gently across the wound. England was obviously trying to be careful while he cleaned the cut, but absolute comfort was impossible considering the size of it.

When he had finished washing it, England began wrapping the bandages around Alfred's arm, taking care that they weren't too tight. He also plastered one to his waist where Russia had removed the one that had been there previously. Upon finishing though, he didn't let go of Alfred's hand, instead holding onto it gently, turning it over in his own hands while remaining silent.

"I'm sorry." Alfred said finally, looking down instead of making eye-contact with the older man.

"For what?"

"Not telling you about me and them."

England tilted Alfred's chin up so that he could look him in the eye, still looking as calm as possible. "You didn't want to tell me, so I didn't ask. You don't have anything to apologise for." He smiled a little sadly, brushing some of Alfred's hair out of his eyes. "But how long were you going to wait before telling me?"

Alfred sighed, this time running his own hand through his hair. "I don't know." He breathed out slowly, looking at the wrappings on his arm, "I wanted to forget about it all."

"I can understand that." England nodded, adjusting the front of the other's shirt into what looked like a more comfortable position. "But if I asked now, would you tell me?"

"You want to know?" Alfred looked at him through the corner of his eye.

England moved closer to the taller man, looking at his bright blue eyes and noting how they'd lost their usual shine. Alfred looked a lot older than he was when he was like this. He'd seen it before when Matthew had visited that time, but it was even worse this time round and it was awful having to watch him like this.

"Yes." He answered simply, leaning his head against Alfred's uninjured shoulder.

Alfred closed his eyes, breathing out again. "It happened three years ago…"


	14. 14 Three Years Ago

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 14_

_

* * *

_

"Al! Wake up; we're going to be late!"

His brother's voice was muffled through his bedroom door, but was still loud enough to wake him. Alfred sat up, ruffling his hair to get it into the right place before pulling back his bedclothes standing up.

It had been another late night, not getting in until three o'clock and then having to be careful not to wake the other members of the household. He'd parked his bike around the corner in the neighbours' space again, knowing that they were away and wouldn't need it for another couple of weeks. This was much more convenient than usual; his parents wouldn't be able to tell whether he'd been out or not or what time he got back each night.

Matthew hammered on the door again, this time a little more urgently. "I'm up, Matt!" He called back, fumbling around for a clean shirt to wear. He'd gone to bed without changing out of his clothes again, and had woken up feeling more uncomfortable for it.

"You could at least wear the proper uniform." Matt groaned when Alfred finally emerged from his bedroom wearing his usual bomber jacket over the top of his school uniform instead of the regulation blazer. Matthew, as usual, looked smart in his own uniform, his tie done up properly and shirt tucked into his plaid trousers.

"You know I can't stand the thing." The older sibling whinged, yawning widely and rubbing his bright blue eyes. "You wanna ride?"

"Aren't you going to have breakfast?" The younger looked up at his brother worriedly, his own slightly violet eyes glancing into the kitchen as they passed it, giving their mother a quick nod. "And you know you're not supposed to take that thing to school." He hissed, knowing that their mother was still within hearing distance.

"I'm sixteen, Matt. There's nothing they can do about it." Alfred grinned, picking up his helmet as he reached the front door, grabbing his jangle of keys and heading outside. "Do you want a ride or not?"

"Fine seeing as we're going to be late anyway." Matthew sighed impatiently. The fourteen year old seemed to be understanding his older brother less and less in recent months, ever since he had joined that group and started staying out later every night, carrying out whatever tasks he just _had_ to be a part of ever since he'd saved up enough to buy that stupid bike.

"Don't give me that look, Mattie." Alfred shoved his brother jokingly.

They carried on walking around to the next street where Alfred had parked his bike, avoiding the looks their neighbours were giving them as they walked passed, they were all aware of Alfred's night time activities.

"I heard you get in last night." Matthew murmured, not wanting other people to overhear their conversation.

His brother didn't answer and just carried on walking, though his face had become more serious. He didn't like it when Matt confronted him about the group.

"What time was it?" He pushed on, willing his brother to give him a reply.

"I dunno, Matt. Three, three thirty maybe? Can't remember." Alfred tried to brush him off and didn't look at the younger blonde. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes!" Matt's pace sped up slightly. He frowned back at his brother, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. "What if Mom and Dad find out? Then what are you going to do?"

"I'll think of something when it actually happens." He tried to brush his brother off, matching the younger's pace and soon overtaking him with his longer legs. "C'mon, or do you want to be even later."

* * *

School had always been mandatory for Alfred. Just another part of his daily life, but he didn't care about it. He was good at some subjects without having to try and others he just didn't bother with. A lot of the time he bunked out of his later classes, instead just heading out to meet up with some of the other members. Other times he took Matt home and pretended to do his homework before sneaking out of one of the back windows before driving off. But somehow Matthew always knew when he had gone out and was waiting for him to arrive back half of the time. It always made things awkward, having to come up with an excuse that his younger brother might believe at God knows when in the morning, and most of the time his stories made no sense and he knew that Matt could see straight through them.

On this particular day he'd gone home with Matt, eaten dinner with the family like the good son he pretended to be for his mother, and then had stalked up stairs and stared at one of his schoolbooks for about half an hour, scribbling down a few answers to some maths problems, before listening carefully for any noise outside his door, grabbing his jacket again, and climbing down the drainpipe next to his bedroom window. The first time he'd done this he had worried about the pipe falling off the wall when he was halfway down, but that hadn't happened as of yet, even after he had gotten taller and older. And as he had gotten older he had also gotten more confident, dangerously so, and his skills had improved so that now no one heard him when he jumped down the last few feet to the ground after having climbed out of his window.

This time they were raiding another gang. They'd gone after them before, terrorising the girl who ran it alongside her giant of a brother. Alfred always remembered her blonde hair sticking up all over the place, even while it was tied down with her trademark hairband, and her blaming her ever the silent-type brother for not intervening while they still had the chance. That particular gang was now so small that it was an easy target for them. They couldn't muster up a good enough defence anymore, so they were all just easy pickings for a good pipe and, if they were particularly rowdy one day, a knife. But Alfred always left the choice down to one of the others, he was fine with either.

"Late as usual." Ivan greeted him, smirking slightly as Alfred pulled up on his bike, removing his helmet before he had even stopped. "I was beginning to lose hope in my number two."

"As if." Alfred laughed, clapping his partner on the back and waving over at Natalia in greeting. The girl nodded shortly before returning to checking over a couple of the other members' bikes, making sure they were ready. "So what's the plan? The usual one two three finish?"

"Probably." Ivan pulled his scarf a little tighter around his neck, "I think we should leave their boss to Natalia and the girls, while we target spikey and the others. He's always been more of a threat even if he does keep quiet most of the time."

"I'd be surprised if it went any differently than usual. They haven't had any new members for months. Too scared." Alfred laughed, tossing his helmet between his hands.

"We need to get going pretty soon." Natalia joined them, retying her ponytail. "I heard their meetings are a lot shorter than they used to be so we won't have long to get there."

"Okay then." Alfred smiled, assisting Natalia onto her bike before swinging himself back onto his one. "Shall we?"

Ivan nodded around to the rest of the group, who followed suit in getting into place on their bikes. They had grown in numbers even in the last week, probably another three or four people than there had been previously. It was hard to control a group so big, but somehow these three managed it without a hitch. They were well known as being the top three throughout the gangs of the town, even if the other leaders didn't like to admit it, Ivan Braginski being in charge, closely followed by Alfred and then Natalia, who was very much considered to be the favourite of the other two, mostly for being Ivan's half-sister.

Finally Ivan swung his leg over his monster of a bike, revving the engine hard before speeding out of the warehouse in front of the others.

* * *

Alfred looked at the clock on his phone. Eleven o'clock. Still early. They had finished far faster than they had originally anticipated. Their group must have lost around ten of its members since the last time they had targeted them, there couldn't have been more than fifteen of them there! Some of them must have legged it when they'd found out they were going to be attacked again. The leader and her brother had been there though, and put up quite a fight alongside their remaining members, but had ultimately been wiped out rather easily.

Ivan was standing at the front of the warehouse, looking out into the night. It had been a disused building for many years now, no one daring to come close to it since Ivan and the gang had moved in. The taller man looked very much composed, not a drop of blood staining his beloved white scarf, unlike Alfred and Natalia who both had red liquid splashed down their clothes and on their hands. They were currently busy cleaning off whatever weapons they had decided to use against the rival gang, Alfred wiping his bar on a patch of grass that had grown up through the concrete floor of the warehouse and Natalia carefully hiding her knife under her coat again. Ivan had barely moved since they had gotten back, merely using a piece of cloth to wipe off his piping, leaning it on his bike and then moving to watch the night outside their headquarters.

Suddenly though, Ivan darted outside, disappearing from sight momentarily and bringing the whole group to attention. Alfred sprinted the distance across the building to the door, closely followed by Natalia, and peered out to try and catch some sight of where their partner had gone. The man was standing by the entrance to the nearest alleyway, bent over something. Alfred could see the smile on his face even from where he was standing just outside the warehouse. That sly, sadistic smile that Ivan always wore when he'd caught someone who shouldn't have been there. It had happened before and was bound to happen again.

Alfred waited for the inevitable screaming of the gang leader's victim, knowing how he usually dealt with the people who tried to spy on them. However Ivan was already returning to the building and was dragging something behind him. It looked like a roll of material at first and it wasn't until Natalia gasped and ran forward to meet her brother that Alfred realised that the man was actually pulling a person along behind him. Together the two siblings frogmarched the person towards the building, shooting comments that Alfred couldn't hear back at them every now and then.

Alfred made his way back inside, not really caring who his friend had found this time. It was probably just that gang leader trying to find some weakness in their group after hers was so easily thrashed.

A hand on his shoulder, however, stopped him in his tracks. Natalia guided him around to the front of the group, Ivan following closely behind them, still holding tightly onto his prey. The girl wouldn't let Alfred turn around to look at whoever the person was, instead grabbing hold of the sides of his head whenever he tried.

Eventually, when they reached the front, Natalia pulled Alfred to one side while Ivan stood in the centre, holding the person in such a way that Alfred still couldn't see who it was. Ivan looked at him coldly. He was still smiling, yes, but Alfred had learnt when the man was happy and when he was angry from the change in his eyes. And this time he was certainly troubled.

"I found this hiding around in the alleyway outside." He spoke to the rest of the group, occasionally glancing over at his sister to make sure she was keeping Alfred in place. "I know he looks familiar to you all, and I'm certain that most of you know why, but I'm also certain that the person in question had no idea that this person would be out there."

He threw the person forwards, letting them land in a heap in front of him, his blonde hair flying in front of his face and covering it. But Alfred had seen what he needed to.

Matthew sat up slowly, turning his head widely to try and get some bearings of where he was. Catching sight of his brother standing to one side he tried to stand and cross to him, but instead was held in place by a large hand on his shoulder.

Natalia finally let go of him and Alfred walked slowly up to Ivan, not moving his eyes from Matthew's figure crouched down on the floor. He was surprised, of course. But showing that in front of Ivan would have been a bad idea; the man always noted weaknesses and looked for openings, even among his allies.

"How long was he there for?" He hissed, not wanting the rest of the group to hear him.

"He's been following us for most of the evening."

"Really?" Alfred didn't need the answer to his question. He continued to watch his younger brother, noting how he too hadn't removed his eyes from his older brother since he had caught sight of him.

"What should we do with him?" Natalia joined them, peering down at the younger boy in front of them.

"That is a good question." Ivan seemed to be ignoring the rest of the group now, solely addressing his two partners. "What should we do with him, Alfred?"

"I-" Alfred froze. They were discussing how to punish his brother. _His brother_. There was no way he could do that. Matt was still watching him as well, hearing every word that was said. But he couldn't show any weakness to the others, that wouldn't serve him well in the slightest. It would be used against him in the future. "Do what you want. I'm going home." He said finally, his gaze hardening on his brother.

"Al!" Matt shouted at Alfred turned to walk away, his eyes widening as his older brother abandoned him there.

Natalia caught his arm, pulling around to face her again. "Are you sure?" She questioned, looking slightly worried.

Alfred looked around, making sure that Matthew and Ivan could still here him. "I don't need a brother who thinks that he needs to spy on me."

Matthew's time seemed to stop. His eyes widened as he saw his brother turn his back on him and swing himself back onto his bike, scattering the gang members as he sped out of the building.

"Very well." Ivan smiled icily, his grip tightening on Matthew's shoulder.

* * *

Alfred felt sick. He couldn't believe that he had just done that. He had just left Matt back there with Ivan, known to be one of the most violent and potentially deadly gang leaders around.

He knew this, and had been scared for himself instead of his brother and God knows what the consequences of that were going to be. It wasn't going to be anything good that was for sure.

But maybe Ivan would go easy on the boy. He was Alfred's younger brother after all, and Alfred was his number two, his _partner_. Maybe he would just rough him up a bit and then let him go. It was a long shot, but maybe.

His thoughts rushed through his head as he walked through the front door, not bothering to be quiet because he knew his parents would still be up. He answered the questions they asked about where he had been, lying through his teeth for the most part, but then came the question "So where's your brother?" and he felt himself freeze again, flinching at the unwanted curiosity of his parents.

"Dunno." He replied quickly, before darting out of the room and up the stairs.

The time passed slowly, Alfred once again mulling over his unfinished homework as a way to distract himself, but his mind kept wandering back to what he had just done.

Fifteen minutes. _Nah, he's fine. Just walking home._

Half an hour.

"Al? Are you sure you haven't seen Matt?"

"No Mom!"

Forty-five minutes. _It's getting late. No. No. He's fine! Nothing to worry about._

An hour.

"Shit." He sat up from the pillow, throwing his pillow off the end in frustration. Alfred grabbed his jacket again, practically running down the stairs towards the front door. "I'm going to find Matt." He called through the living room door, grabbing his keys off the shelving unit by the door.

He vaguely heard his mother shouting after him, "Alfred? It's after midnight!" but ignored her, practically lunging himself through the front door and back out into the night.

* * *

It wasn't particularly cold for the time of year and the wind rushing past him as he rode was relatively warm, but even so he shivered, the dread building in the back of his mind.

Ivan wouldn't have done anything. He always had a sort of soft spot for families. He always took great care not to put Natalia into situations where he thought there was any chance of her getting hurt, and Alfred knew that he had another, older sister that he was fond of as well. So he would certainly treat Matthew the same way, knowing that he was Alfred's brother. Yeah, yeah, he'd do that. There was nothing to worry about.

He kept running that thought through his mind until he arrived back at the warehouse, noting that it was nearly completely empty now. Most of the members had left, having finished that evening's raid, leaving a few of the regulars, Natalia and Ivan behind.

Matt was nowhere to be seen.

"Ah, he's back." Ivan looked up, smiling at Alfred's arrival. His clothes, Alfred realised, were a lot dirtier than they had been before. His usually pristine scarfs had dark black smudges all over it, and were mirrored on his face and hands. It almost looked as if he had been up someone's chimney.

Natalia's appearance was similar, but she didn't look nearly as burnt. The marks were obviously soot of some sort, nothing else would make them look quite as dishevelled. She shifted awkwardly from one foot to another, carefully avoiding making eye-contact with Alfred.

Ivan, on the other hand, looked quite pleased to see him. He patted Alfred on the back as he dismounted, his eyes actually giving across the impression that he was happy for once.

"What do we owe this pleasure?" He drawled, raising Alfred's suspicions all the more.

He took a step back from the gang leader, surveying him carefully, unsure of how to answer him. "What did you do with my brother?" He decided it was better to be direct rather than beating around the bush, knowing that if he came across as being nervous and worried, Ivan would turn it to his own advantage.

"Your brother?" Ivan tilted his head to one side, his eyes fixed on Alfred. "He was punished suitably and left alone." He waved his hand as if the matter was unimportant, returning to rubbing his bike over with an old cloth.

"He hasn't gone home yet." Alfred looked sternly at his partner, seeing that he was obviously trying to brush the subject off.

"How would you know if you aren't there yourself?"

"Don't patronize me, Ivan!" Alfred's temper was fraying, his worry growing steadily.

"_You're_ the one who said I could do what I wanted with him."

Alfred stared at him. His mind had gone blank. This was his fault for leaving Matt behind and now he didn't know what Ivan had done with him. Ivan, the man who only two hours ago had been smashing a great lead pipe over the heads of the members of a rival gang. And Alfred had left his younger brother with him saying he could punish him how he saw fit. What the hell had he been thinking?

"What did you do?" Alfred muttered, almost inaudibly.

"What's this? Regretting now are we?" Ivan snickered, looking Alfred up and down. "I wonder if he managed to get away."

"Where is he?" He said a little louder. The other members who were still there had started gathering around.

"Starting to feel the heat yet, Jones?"

"Where is he, Ivan?" Alfred yelled, grabbing Ivan by the scruff of his neck. He glared into the taller man's eyes, knowing that this was exactly what he had wanted Alfred to do.

Ivan laughed. He was actually enjoying seeing Alfred looking so panicked. The younger man pulled back his fist, striking his partner hard across his jaw.

The other members scattered, scared of what was going to happen next. No one had ever hit Ivan before, and anyone who had tried had come off a lot worse than they had been before. Ivan was known to be an extremely violent man, which was why Alfred had gotten so worried in the first place.

But there was no reaction. Alfred dropped the man in front of him, breathing heavily and glaring down at him. Ivan was still grinning away, but his eyes had turned cold and were positively boring into Alfred.

Neither one of them spoke; waiting to see which of them would break eye contact first. Natalia had backed off, looking terrified at the sudden development between her brother and their partner.

Alfred eventually looked away, returning to his bike. "I'll find him myself then." He muttered, shooting another glare back at the others.

"Does your brother like cars?" Ivan called out to him suddenly, just before he pulled his helmet over his head. He ignored the tone of his voice, hoping that the comment had been some sort of clue as to where Matt was. He revved his bike and was gone again, leaving the other two behind him. "I wonder whether you'll make it in time."

* * *

Cars. Cars. What did he mean by cars?

_Damn it, why are there so many cars dealers in town?_

Alfred's patience was slipping further and further away. He'd been searching for far too long and he still hadn't found Matthew. He could see Ivan in the back of his mind laughing and goading him for being so soft. They'd never look at him in the same way again; he'd gone and mucked up his place as second in command. But this was something more important than his reputation in the gang.

Where else were there any cars.

He'd been to every single auto dealer in the town and Ivan couldn't have taken Matt too far away, there was too little time between him leaving and getting back for him to do anything like that.

_Cars. Cars. Cars._

Then it hit him and he realised what all the things that Ivan had said had really meant.

There was an old scrap dump just outside the town that they often went to when the warehouse was being searched by the police. They'd lost a few members that way. Of course they'd take Matt there when Ivan k new that Alfred was bound to go back to their normal base to look for him.

Ivan had planned this all out from the very beginning.

Then he remembered something else Ivan had said.

"_Starting to feel the heat yet, Jones?"_

There was smoke rising in the distance. Alfred could see it even in the night, standing out against the glow of the streetlamps. _Shit! He wouldn't!_

He kicked his bike into gear again and sped down the street, swerving in between cars dangerous. He had to get there, and fast.

* * *

There were already fire engines parked at the entrance to the dump, battling the flames down.

Alfred pulled up behind one, peering through the smoke in at the piles and piles of rusty old vehicles and rubbish. They'd never find him in time.

Carefully scooting around the engine he lined himself up with the open gate, revving the bike so that he could set off with enough speed, and kicked off, shooting forwards.

A couple of fire-fighters jumped to the side, not expecting the speeding biker to suddenly appear, and were shouting something after him as Alfred disappeared into the smoke.

* * *

The smoke was thick, so thick that he eventually had to abandon his bike and continue into the dump on foot.

The fire was worse the further in he went, enveloping the many different piles of rubbish that had been left there over the years. The smoke towered into the air, almost choking Alfred even though he had taken care to keep his helmet on. The smell of the burning metal and fuel was almost overpowering as he made his way through and combined with the smoke making his eyes water it was almost impossible to keep on going.

Pile after pile he went past, hoping for some sign of life amongst them somewhere. He prayed that Ivan had shown some pity on the boy and not set fire to the place where he had left him, but for as far as Alfred could make out, everything had been set ablaze.

But then he saw it, the one car that wasn't a flaming mess. He could just about see the limp form of a body protruding from under the car's body amongst all the smoke and he could have cried. It was Matt.

_Oh, please God, let him be alive!_

He ran over, waving the heat away from his face. The helmet seriously wasn't helping in that aspect, it was just making him even hotter.

Matt's leg was stuck under the vehicle, making it practically impossible to move him without hurting him even more. What Ivan had used to move the damn thing, Alfred didn't know, and that was the last of his worries at the time.

The smell of burning fuel was getting stronger and the flames were getting dangerously close to where Alfred was leaning over his brother, trying to find some way of removing him from under the car.

There was a massive crash and a van fell off the top of a nearby pile, the windows smashing and covering Alfred with broken glass as he leapt over Matthew to protect him. Other debris hit his shoulder, burning through his jacket before he had a chance to beat it out. A final piece shot through the car's windscreen, landing on the front seat and setting it alight.

_No. No! Shit!_

The fire in the car was spreading quickly, leaving him little choice but to try and pull Matthew free. His leg was bleeding from where the car was resting on it, obviously crushing it badly. There was also a growing red patch in his hair. Ivan had really gone all out this time.

Another smash as one of the car's windows shattered.

Alfred pulled his brother but still couldn't move him. The car was too heavy and he didn't want to hurt Matt any more than he already was.

He pushed himself up under the vehicle's front bumper, willing the car to raise off the ground enough for him to ease Matt out. He felt his jacket rip from the strain on his back, the hot metal burning his back.

And then it shifted.

It was only an inch, but it was enough. Alfred pressed up against the underneath of the car again, mustering up all the strength he could and pushed upwards again.

Another inch up. And another. Perfect.

He reached for Matthew's waist with his feet and kicked out against him, unable to move his hands from where he was supporting himself under the war. He kicked again, mentally apologising to his brother. His leg was almost free, but he couldn't stop yet. Another kick. His back was aching terribly, but if he dropped out now then the car would fall straight back on Matthew. _One more…_

He was out. Alfred dropped the car down the few inches he had lifted it, rolling back out from under the bumper. The hot metal scraped against his waist, burning through his jacket and leaving a thin red line where it had touched his skin. His shoulders were burnt and in agony but he had to get Matt out of there.

Standing rather stiffly, Alfred removed his helmet, choking slightly on the smoke that suddenly flooded into his lungs. He reached out to find Matthew again, lifting him up slightly and pushing the helmet over his head instead of his own in some frugal attempt of protecting him from any further damage by the fire.

He hoisted his brother over his shoulders, grunting from the pain that shot through them and gingerly started walking back in the direction he had come from.

Everything looked different in the growing flames. Alfred had been to the dump more than once in the past but he didn't recognise anything. It was all a complete mess.

He finally saw the form of his bike appear through the smoke and sped up his pace to get to it. Luckily the flames hadn't reached it yet but were getting uncomfortable close. Everything around him smelled like burning fuel and he hurried to position Matthew onto the seat and take his own place behind the handlebars.

It took him several attempts to kick the bike into gear, his shoulders screaming out every time he took hold of the bars. Eventually though the bike revved and he shot forward, careful not to go too fast so that Matthew didn't fall from the back.

He could feel his brother slumped up against his back, still unconscious, but definitely breathing. Alfred could hear his breath, rasping but still warm and present even if it was slower than usual. Every now and then he would let out a small cough from under the helmet as the smoke cleared from his system.

And then the fire was gone and Alfred was slowing down in front of a crowd of fire-fighters who had rushed towards them as soon as he had emerged from the smoke.

He was rushed to one side and bombarded with questions while others carefully lifted Matthew from the bike and lay him on a stretcher, checking out the wounds on his head and leg.

* * *

The next thing Alfred knew, he was waking up in hospital. His mother was standing at the end of the bed talking to a policeman in hushed voices, not realising that the boy had woken.

During his time in the ward other officers came and went, questioning about what had happened at the dump, how he had known that Matthew had been there, and other things along those lines. He didn't hide the fact that he had been a member of Ivan's gang from them; he was too tired to try and deny this fact from them. However he quickly found out that Ivan had disappeared and hadn't been seen for days since they had raided the other gang.

It wasn't long after this that Natalia secretly came to visit him, telling him that they were leaving without him. She was cold in repeating her brother's words to Alfred, and told him that Ivan had found it a great treachery that he hadn't been able to control his own brother. Alfred just let the words roll over him, barely acknowledging that the girl was even there. He knew that he wasn't going back to them once he got out. He couldn't trust them anymore and had since realised how much trust he had given them without even considering what he was doing.

The doctors ultimately told him that he was fine, save the damage the smoke had done to his eyes. He was prescribed glasses and discharged from the hospital, going home with his parents.

Matthew had told the police that Alfred had had nothing to do with the incident and had phoned him to tell him where he was before he passed out. Of course, this had been enough for the police, although they had continued looking for Ivan and the rest of the group for several weeks afterwards.

Alfred himself had been charged for minor damages that the gang had incurred since he had joined, though not the fire itself as it was clear that he had not started it.

Soon after this he had taken his bike and set fire to it in secret, somewhere where no one would see or find it.

He felt as though he was tired all the time and had no energy to do anything. School was more mandatory than ever, people passing him in hushed whispers after everything that had happened. The other members of the group who had attended the school all avoided him. They had been left behind without a word from Ivan as well. One or two confronted Alfred about it but got no answer.

Matthew was discharged from hospital a little while after Alfred. His entire right leg had been severely crushed, leaving him wheelchair bidden and unable to walk. However the wound on his head had healed without much of a problem. He too now had to wear glasses, though, due to the smoke damage. His leg was going to be permanently disabled, though he soon taught himself to walk again with crutches after a few months of being in the wheelchair (_"I can't stand having to sit down all the time. It feels like I'm in a jungle of legs all the time."_).

Their parents had started fighting a lot after the incident. Their father adamant that Alfred was at fault for letting Matthew get into trouble with the gang that _he_ was a member of because he cared more about himself than his brother. Their mother, however, placed the blame solely on Ivan, saying that Alfred had no way of knowing what Ivan was going to and was right to worry for his own safety.

Alfred, of course, agreed with his father. The guilt was almost too much. Matt had gotten him out of trouble with the police when they had wanted to charge him for the whole thing and he couldn't do anything in return. Matt had always wanted to go to college, whereas Alfred had never really been bothered with his education, so he buried himself in his studies, working hard in the subjects that his brother loved rather than the ones that he was good at, and eventually got good enough grades to enter college to study literature in Matthew's stead. If his brother couldn't carry out his ambitions then he'd do it for him and then teach him all about it himself.

Two years after the fire Mr and Mrs Jones divorced, the fighting between them having escalated from just their disagreement over the incident. It seemed that they had grown further and further apart until Mrs Jones couldn't take it anymore and filed for their separation, taking Alfred and Matthew to live with her until Alfred moved out to go to a different college after another year. He couldn't take her nagging at him to change his name to hers any further and just left.

He could start anew this way. The town was close enough, so he could stay in contact easily if he had to. No one would know about his past unless they made their own inquiries, which he knew some people would, of course. The college and his landlord would know. That was compulsory, but other than that it was a clean slate.

If only things had stayed that way.

* * *

**[A/N:** Three very quick updates this time, I know, but I've been away for two weeks with no internet so all I could do was write and draw, so here's three chapters.

This chapter was one I've been planning since the beginning, but was a lot harder to write than I had originally thought ^^;;

I'm still writing chapter 15, but I've pretty much planned out the rest of the fic, so not long to go now people. Thanks for kicking around for its duration =)

I've also finished Francis's headshot for this series, so that'll be up some time soon too**]**


	15. 15 Opening Doors

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 15_

_

* * *

_

Alfred sat forward on the sofa, his head in his hands.

It felt like he had just lived the whole thing all over again, seeing Matt get thrown forward by Ivan, being trapped under the car in the fire and then ending up in the hospital only half alive.

He felt sick. All of this really wasn't doing him any good. First he'd tried to confront Ivan again, only to get thrown off only too easily and now he was shaking like a leaf after telling England about why he had left in the first place. He knew that he must have looked pathetic.

Something touched his cheek, turning his head gently. England looked at him, his eyes sad but still just as vibrant as ever. His brushed his thumb under Alfred's eye, wiping away something wet, before smiling rather weakly. Carefully, he moved a little closer to the younger man, pulling his head to rest on his own shoulder.

He hadn't realised that he was crying until England had pulled him closer, placing his hand on the back of his head so that Alfred's face was very much buried in his shoulder. Alfred wrapped his own hands around England's waist, squeezing his eyes shut and half willing the tears not to roll down his face. He didn't want to have to suffer the embarrassment of having to apologise to England for getting his shirt wet.

England shushed him in his usual, semi-impatient tone, but his presence was very much a soothing one, so much so that Alfred could have laughed.

Alfred eventually pulled away slightly, feeling England rest his head on top of his own and nuzzling into his hair. He was humming quietly, which Alfred noted was the same song he had sung when they had gone out together before. He took his glasses off, rubbing them against the hem of his shirt.

"Do you regret it?" England asked suddenly, breaking the silence between them.

Alfred laughed darkly, shifting in England's arms so that he could see him better. "Which part?"

"Coming here." England's voice was stiff and he was all too aware of it. He knew that his face would have flushed and prayed that Alfred wasn't paying too much attention to it.

"England, I-"

"I'm glad you came here." He sat up suddenly, tipping Alfred off of him upon realising what he had just said. His face was beet red and he was obviously flustered. "Don't get me wrong! You're useful to have around, picking Peter up from school all the time, and the kid likes you, and you get on with the others even if you all act like prats all the time and-"

Alfred pulled him back into his embrace, squeezing the smaller man a little harder than he would have normally.

They stayed like that for a few moments, England finding it a little hard to breathe but not fighting the other blonde's hold on him. Alfred was definitely as strong as, if not stronger than he looked and even though he had often tried to boost his own ego by showing off this strength, it wasn't obvious to England until the man had his arms wrapped around him. He could tell that Alfred wasn't crying anymore, his shoulders were stock still, and his breath was steadier than it had been, but still a little raspy.

He eventually moved so that his chin was resting on Alfred's shoulder, the need to breathe finally taking over, but he didn't move out of the embrace. The other's breaths were loud in his ear, and he seriously hoped that his face wouldn't turn any more red than he knew it already was.

"Feeling better?" England asked, feeling the other's grip on his loosen, but not let go.

"Yeah, thanks." Alfred leant back into the sofa, pulling England with him so that their legs tangled together awkwardly.

It was only then that England realised, with the added pressure on his back, that one of Alfred's hands was still clenched into a fist. He would have understood this motion had it been his injured arm that was held fast, but no, it was most definitely the younger's uninjured arm. He moved slightly to attempt to look behind him, seeing a slither of white sticking out from between Alfred's fingers.

"What are you holding?" He moved so that he was free of Alfred's arms, giving him a better view of the piece of paper that he was now very obviously holding tight in his hand.

Alfred opened his fingers, staring at what had been grasped in them, slightly confused by it before realisation sparked on his features. "Braginski said to give it to you." He held it out to England, who took it, if not a little reluctantly. "I don't think it's anything dangerous." Alfred reassured him. "He doesn't work that way."

England nodded, turning the slip in his fingers, wondering what Russia could possibly want to give him. As far as he was concerned, the gang leader never gave anything out of the good of his heart, because he didn't have one, so there had to be some sort of catch to what this was.

The paper was folded neatly, the creases sharp so that they wouldn't open by themselves. It also looked worn, but not old, as if it had been in Russia's pocket for a while and had things continually shoved in on top of it.

He opened the first fold, trying not to damage the slip any further. Some ink had seeped through the white surface, bleeding out slightly from the neat curved line that was on the other side of the sheet. England froze. The line was shaped in an all too familiar way, stylised to fit his own tidy tastes.

Unfolding the paper fully he could only stare at what he held in front of him.

"What is it?" Alfred asked, not really paying attention, his head still throbbed slightly from the night's ordeals. It was only when England pulled away from him, sitting up fully on the sofa that he actually looked at him properly.

He had drawn his legs up in front of him, hugging his knees to his chest. The older man's shoulders were obviously shaking, even though he tried very hard to supress them with his head buried in the crook of his arms. The piece of paper was now screwed up in his fist like it had been in Alfred's.

"Hey." He shuffled closer to England, wrapping his arm around the bunched up figure. It briefly crossed his mind how comfortably England fit in his arms, but he had more important things to concentrate on and quickly shook the thought away.

"He gave this to you?" England's voice was muffled under his arms and broke as he spoke, making it evident to Alfred that the older man was indeed crying. Alfred nodded, murmuring the affirmative. "Why?" England lifted his head so that Alfred could see those bright green eyes shining with tears.

"I don't know." Alfred tried to keep his voice steady, giving England a quick, reassuring squeeze.

Suddenly England had flung himself at Alfred, his arms tight around the younger man's shoulders. Taken aback and unsure of what to do, Alfred found himself resting his arms around England's waist, holding him softly. His shoulder was slowly becoming damp with the other's tears, but thought better than to mention this to him.

He still didn't know what had gotten England so worked up in the first place. It obviously had something to do with the paper Ivan had passed to him through Alfred, but it couldn't be something that bad, could it? The gang leader had always been one to torture people through more physical and _painful_ acts, not by sending them little notes written on scraps of paper.

England sniffed, choking back a sob in a rather undignified manner, clutching to the back of Alfred's ruined shirt. "Thank you…"

He had raised his chin to rest on Alfred's shoulder again, making his voice clearer though he spoke in barely over a whisper. He repeated the statement, this time a lot quieter, as if to remind himself that he had said it. "We must both look pretty pathetic right now." He leant back, still resting his hands on Alfred's shoulders and looking both himself and the other man over with a small smile present on his face. "Two grown men crying like this. Honestly, what would people think?" He breathed out a laugh, relaxing back into Alfred's hold again.

"I got you covered in blood." Alfred sighed, closing his eyes as the gap between them was closed once more. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, git. I'm the one who jumped on you." He glanced up to look at Alfred's face, meeting the gaze of his blue eyes. "Besides, I think you're a bit worse off than I am." He pulled on the ripped hem of Alfred's blood stained shirt, frowning at the damage that had been done to it. "This is a bit beyond repair."

"Nothing your magic sewing skills can do this time." Alfred's tone had lightened at bit, remembering when he had caught England getting annoyed with Peter when the boy had returned home with his school blazer ripped after getting it caught on someone's garden railings.

"Unfortunately." The corners of England's mouth twitched up into a smile, resting his head Alfred's chest.

Alfred brushed his hand through England's hair, dislodging it further from its usual messy state. The older blonde raised his head into the touch, looking up at the younger. He wasn't crying anymore, though the tear streaks were still visible on his cheeks. Alfred's hand moved under England's chin, lifting it so that he could see his face fully and leaning in until they were only millimetres away from each other.

And then they kissed. Quickly at first, the touch not lasting more than a couple of seconds before one of them deepened it. England's hands moved up from Alfred's shoulders to the back of his neck, one combing through his hair while Alfred's travelled up his back, stroking down his spine and around his waist.

A small moan travelled up England's throat at the other's touch, causing his blush to deepen as he broke the contact briefly to look sheepishly at Alfred, who looked just as surprised as he was sure he did. Alfred's hand traced the shape of his cheek, smiling at the slight frown he received in return for the touch before the older man just shook his head and went back to leaning against Alfred's chest.

Alfred continued to massage England's back in circles, comforting the man while enjoying the small shivers that occasionally made him twitch in his arms, settling further into the embrace. England's hair tickled the younger man where he leant on his chest, the ripped open shirt not helping the matter, and he moved slightly, as if he was teasing Alfred each time his hair brushed against his bare skin.

Eventually Alfred heard England's breath even out, taking on a calmer rhythm. Looking down Alfred could see that the man's eyes were indeed closed, and his face was relaxed, making him look several years younger.

"England? Are you-?"

"Arthur."

"What?" Alfred sat further back on the seat so that he could look at the other man properly, the green eyes now open and staring back at him.

He smiled, his entire face lighting up with it. "My name" he swivelled around so that he was facing Alfred, "is Arthur."

Alfred gaped at him, his eyes wide. And then he pulled the smaller man forward, capturing his still smiling lips with his own and feeling the grin on his own face grow as the kiss was returned.

* * *

"You really know how to surprise a guy."

Alfred stretched under the sheets, looping his arm under the other's shoulders.

It had been an experience to say in the least. His shirt had finally been discarded, along with the rest of their clothes, and they had somehow made their way to the smaller man's bed. And now they were a tangle of limbs under the bedcovers and all Alfred could remember was the touch of the other man underneath him as they had held each other.

Arthur was now lying on his side, one arm drooped across Alfred's chest while he smiled aimlessly up at the younger man. He toyed with the slip of paper which he had discarded on the desk next to his bed with Alfred's glasses. He picked it up, hovering it in front of his face, eyes flicking over his own neatly scrawled handwriting.

"It's been a while since I wrote this." He sighed, letting the paper fall on top of Alfred's face.

Alfred moved his hand back out from under his own head, picking the slip off of his nose and squinting at it in the dark of the room, finally being able to make out the curly lettering.

_I, Arthur Kirkland, hereby relinquish my name and identity_

_to the person of my choosing, for them to return to me when they choose._

_And until that time, I will use the name I am given until it is no longer_

_fit for my use._

A signature was scribbled at the bottom of the note, sealing the promise the man had made to the gang leader, and thereby giving up his identity to him.

Alfred rolled onto his side, lifting Arthur's chin and pecking a kiss on his forehead. "You've really made an ordeal for yourself, haven't you?"

"Didn't give myself a choice at the time." Arthur sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into Alfred's touch. "I wasn't exactly going through the best of times."

"No." Alfred ran his thumb over the other's cheek, sweeping the hair out of Arthur's eyes. "No, Francis told me before."

"Damn frog doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut." Arthur muttered, frowning at the idea the Francis had taken the job of revealing his past to Alfred before he had deemed it fit for the younger man to know. "But I suppose it can't be helped. Though I would have preferred for you not to know how much of a nut I was back then. I mean, what was I thinking joining a gang? How was that going to solve anything?" He rolled onto his back, closing his eyes, a small frown evident on his face. "Must've been mad. Still, the actual biking bit wasn't so bad. It kind of makes you feel like you're-"

"Flying?" Alfred cut him off, tracing the patterns the shadows made on the ceiling with his finger. "I know what you mean." He smiled, remembering the sensation. "It's the reason why I joined in the first place. Just a bit of freedom, you know?"

"Then we were both mad." Arthur chuckled, pulling on the other's cowlick.

"Damn right!" Alfred laughed, batting the hand away.

He moved so that he was positioned back over Arthur, grinning down at him before leaning in to graze their lips together once more, then ran a thumb over one of the man's oversized eyebrows.

"Get off!" Arthur snickered, pushing the hand to the side.

"But _Arthur!_ They're just too cute-!" Alfred was cut off by the other pulling him back down towards him, feeling the heat from his mouth and the arms which had looped tightly around his neck once more.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Arthur babbled, suddenly bright red after letting go of Alfred, the realisation of what he had just done catching up with him. "It's just… It's been a while since anyone called me by my name."

Alfred grinned, leaning his forehead against the other's and staring straight into his eyes. "Then I'll say it a million more times 'til you're used to it, _Arthur._"

He rolled to one side so that he and Arthur were facing each other, stilling grinning from ear to ear. "It suits you, y'know? 'Arthur'. Even if it is a bit old fashioned."

"Oh yeah, and guys are called 'Alfred' all the time." Arthur scoffed, poking the other's cheek hard.

"I wasn't saying _you're_ old fashioned!" Alfred flinched away when he was jabbed again. "I just meant that it fits your image, 'cause you're British, right? And there's all those 'King Arthur' legends over there, so it works."

"You're babbling." The older man rolled his eyes, sighing and flashing his pirate-like smirk in Alfred's direction. "I grew up in London before I moved here with my parents when I was nine. And yes, while there _are_ the legends of King Arthur and Excalibur in England, not _everyone_ called Arthur is named after some king who didn't necessarily exist."

"You believe he was real though, don't you?" Alfred snickered, returning the expression Arthur had shot at him.

"Wha-! What makes you think that?" Alfred couldn't help but laugh as the other blonde spluttered, his blush spreading across his cheeks once again.

"_You _were the one who was defending fairies earlier."

"I was defending _Shakespeare_ you dolt!"

"Yeah, yeah- hey, hey! Ow! _Arthur!_"

Alfred ducked under the covers, shielding his head from the man who was now showering it with his fists, though these actions were very obviously all for play. It was only when Alfred yanked on Arthur's ankle, effectively pulling under the bedclothes as well, that the older man ceased his mock violence in favour of claw his way back up the bed again, objecting to younger's joking.

"Just go to sleep, already!" He finished, pushing the covers back down so that Alfred's head was visible on the pillow once more. "It's nearly four!"

"Okay, okay." Alfred stretched, looping his arm around the smaller man once more and pulling him closer. He pecked Arthur's lips quickly, smiling at the flustered splutter that escaped from him.

He watched as the other man slowly drifted off to sleep, marvelling at how much his expression changed into a blissfully peaceful one, then let his own eyes slide shut, tiredness finally catching up with him.

* * *

It wasn't yet dawn when Alfred woke, a cold glimmer shining in through a small gap in the curtains bathing the room in a pale grey light. The room was blurred without his glasses on but he could still make out the form of the digital clock on the desk reading '6:49'. He'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep but he was already wide awake. The days were starting to get shorter as winter got closer.

Arthur was still asleep next to him, huddled up against his side in more than a slight awkward position. Alfred had to stifle his laugh when he saw that the older man had somehow managed to tie the bedcovers around himself and had one leg sticking out on top of them, having already pulled the under sheet off the bottom of the mattress. It was surprising just how much this man moved around in his sleep.

Carefully slipping out from under the covers and pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, Alfred rearranged the sheets where Arthur had pulled them off the bed and untangled the duvet from the mess of limbs, placing it over the older man's form in a more comfortable looking position.

He found his jeans in a heap on the floor and pulled them on quickly before exiting the room and letting the door click shut behind him.

Arthur's apartment felt surprisingly different when it was only the two of them there. The living room was void of any bodies lying all over the floor. There were no empty beer cans littering the area where Gilbert would normally be unconscious close by and there was no sign of the struggle where Antonio had caught hold of Lovino and dragged him onto the sofa with him. Peter's door was still left open from the previous night and was equally as deserted. If was just quiet.

He left the flat as silently as he could, not wanting to wake the sleeping man in the next room, grabbing his jacket from the sofa as he passed it.

A slight chill blew through the corridor as Alfred climbed the stairs back up to his own room, the steps clacking under his footsteps as he padded up them in his old trainers. He could hear murmurs coming from inside Kiku's apartment, signalling that the teacher and his older brother were already up and getting ready for the day ahead, which Alfred had always considered to be a weird habit of the two Asians, to get up just as early as they did during the week at the weekends.

His own room was still in the same state as he had left it when he had gone out the night before. His papers strewn over the desk and coffee table and the book that Arthur had been reading was still balanced on the arm of the chair, open to the page that he had finished on.

He threw his jacket to one side, mentally noting where it had landed so he could pick it up again when he left. Disappearing into his bedroom and grabbing another shirt and pulling it over his head before running his hand through his hair so that it settled back in the right place. He briefly searched the room for another pair of jeans but gave up after a minute of tossing his things over the bed.

Finally standing up straight again, Alfred pulled his jacket back on over his clothes, ignoring the stiffness in the sleeve where the blood had soaked into it. He was going to have to buy a new one at some point, but hated the idea of throwing it away after having it for so long.

It had gotten lighter in the time it had taken him to get changed and while he was walking back down the stairwell Alfred could tell that it had warmed up slightly, though it was still very obviously a late autumn morning even if the sun was shining through the window of the front door.

"What's gotten you up so early then?"

Alfred started at the heavily accented voice drifting out of the nearby door as he had turned the handle on the front door.

Francis stood in the doorway to his basement flat, one thin eyebrow raised. His hair hung around his shoulders limply and dark shadows framed his lilac-blue eyes, making him look drastically older than he usually did.

"How's Peter?" Alfred turned to face the landlord, keeping the door held slightly open behind him.

"He's fine, staying with Berwald and Tino at their house." He yawned, making his sentence even harder to understand through his accent. "Where were you off to then?"

The look the Frenchman gave Alfred was strangely stern compared to his usual laidback nature. It was the first time Alfred had thought of the man as being the intimidating landlord that were usually associated with these sort of apartment blocks.

"You're giving me a lot more trouble than I had anticipated." He eventually sighed, rubbing his temples. "When I was told about your record I was hoping that they were right about you giving all of this up, but I am guessing that I judged you too soon, _non_? I am right in my assumption in who you are going to see?" He waited for Alfred to reply, but when none came continued, his frown deepening, "I am not stupid, Alfred. I have had to live with knowing what that man does for over a year now and watching my friends deal with him. It does not require a great genius to guess what you are going to do and I do not see why, when you are in my care, I should allow you to-"

"Give it a rest, Francis." Arthur's voice echoed as he appeared at the top of the first flight of stairs. He had pulled his jeans back on but had left them unbuttoned, allowing his underwear to show slightly above the waistline. "It's far too early to have to put up with your poor attempt at speaking English."

His eyes traced the gap between the two other blondes and then to Alfred's hand still resting on the door handle. He rummaged in his pocket quickly before pulling something out and tossing it to the younger man. "Here."

There was a jangle as Alfred caught the metallic object Arthur had thrown to him and it took him a few seconds to realise what it actually was.

"Your bike?" He looked up at the man, his expression all the more puzzled.

"Take it." Arthur nodded shortly, descending the final few stairs. "I'm not going to try and stop you. Not when you've got your mind set like this. We both know that I'm not the only stubborn one." He smiled, chuckling at the look on Alfred's face. "Did you honestly think that you wouldn't get caught sneaking out? Who wouldn't wake up when you pull the bedcovers off them?" He shot Francis a violent look at this, knowing how the Frenchman would react to the last statement.

"Arthur, I-"

"This is something you need to do for yourself, right?" He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, fixing his eyes on Alfred's. "Go on. Before I come to my senses." Clapping him on the back, Arthur pushed Alfred the rest of the way out the door.

It was just what Alfred needed, even if he did stumble through the doorway after Arthur had _encouraged_ him. He gave the man one last glance before tossing the keys over in his hand and turning to sprint over to the three bikes, one of which definitely hadn't been there the night before, that were parked nearby, swinging onto the dark green vehicle and kicking it into gear.

Arthur watched as Alfred's figure on the bike disappeared around the corner, speeding down the next road, obviously knowing where he was going. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Francis's sly smile stretched across his lips.

"So you had a good time last night?" He tossed his hair back over his shoulder, his tiredness seemingly evaporating.

"Shut up, frog." Arthur brushed him off, rolling his eyes at the older man. "Peter's alright?"

"He'll be fine." Francis leant back against his own doorframe, still smiling, but softer now.

"Good." Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his hair and yawning.

"Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Good to have you back."

Arthur turned back to look at Francis, returning the small smile, rolling his eyes again.

"Well this is all nice and lovely." A sarcastic voice emanated from Francis's room as Gilbert poked his head around the door, "But I, being as awesome as I am, am not a fan of letting our dear friend Alfred have all the fun." He sniggered, opening the door to the flat fully, showing the two other figures sat inside. "What do you say Artie? Search and destroy?"


	16. 16 An Ivy Covered House

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 16_

_

* * *

_

Alfred inwardly cursed that he'd lost his helmet the previous night as the wind blew his hair around his face. The roaring of it in his ears practically deafened him as he drove down early morning streets, swerving around corners easily as the memories of riding a bike came back to him. It really was something he would never forget.

He knew exactly where to go, even if he had never been there before. He'd been made to memories the address three years ago when he was still working alongside the gang leader. It wasn't far to drive, even on Arthur's older styled bike (the man really did like antiques…), and Alfred found himself speeding past more and more familiar landmarks as he made his way through the backstreets of the town he had once lived in.

The house was old and worn down, ivy growing up and around the windows. As far as most people were concerned the building had been deserted for years after the man who owned it had died, but in reality three siblings had moved in there inconspicuously, the younger two of which had formed one of the largest gangs in the town's history. The eldest of them was rarely seen and Alfred only knew about her from the younger sister's occasional offhand comments, which were usually hushed by her brother.

Alfred pulled on the driveway, stepping over the long grass which had grown up through the concrete.

Ivan had done a really good job of hiding that anyone was living there, he had to admit, and in any other situation Alfred would have thought that the house might have been haunted, and maybe there actually were ghosts in there and then, and then! No, no, this was _not_ the time to start panicking about _that_ kind of thing. There were more important things to worry about.

The paint was flaking off the front door as Alfred twisted the handle, letting it swing open on its hinges to reveal a dimly lit hallway.

His footsteps echoed down the corridor as he stepped inside. It was eerily quiet, almost making Alfred think that he had come to the wrong place, putting the fact that the lights were on aside.

A clatter pushed the thought out of his mind as Alfred started and swung around to locate the source of the noise and the stuttering that had ensued.

"Oh- oh my…" A woman stood at the top of a small flight of stairs, her eyes darting between Alfred and the tray she had dropped down the steps. "I- I wasn't expecting visitors this early… I would have…" She glanced quickly around the dark room, as if expecting more people to materialise out of the shabby drapes that covered the windows.

"Katyusha, right?" Alfred looked her up and down, trying not to land his gaze on her… assets.

"How did you-?" She looked even more bewildered, pushing her hair band back further on her head.

"I know your brother." Alfred's tone was noticeably darker when he mentioned her younger brother, the severity of what he was doing finally sinking in.

"Oh." Katyusha stared at Alfred for a few seconds before quickly gathering up the objects she had dropped and taking a few steps ahead of him down the corridor. "You'd best follow me then." She spoke over her shoulder, no longer looking the younger boy in the eye before she continued walking in silence.

Alfred followed behind her, taking note of how well the house was decorated on the inside despite its outer appearance. Red drapes hung down the walls, insulating the building a little too well (Alfred remembered Ivan mentioning that he was from somewhere very cold so he liked the heat). There were a number of different ornaments and tables placed down the corridors that he was led down, all looking of a particular high class.

Katyusha herself was looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Her posture was stiff as she walked, still holding the tray and making sure to keep a few paces ahead of the blonde. Occasionally she would push her short hair behind her ears or adjust the strap of her overalls, still not looking around to see whether Alfred was still walking behind her. She wore her shoes even though she was inside the house, evidently not wanting to walk on the wooden floorboards in just her socks or barefoot, which Alfred could understand, seeing the thick layer of dust that covered pretty much everything.

"He doesn't usually bring people to the house." She stopped suddenly, nearly causing Alfred to walk into her.

"Oh- Well, he didn't exactly invite me." Alfred shuffled his feet, letting his eyes wander around the narrow hall. "But I need to see him." He quickly added, noticing Katyusha's eyes widen with even more worry.

"If you're sure." She said uncertainly, "I'm not sure how he'll take to it though." She turned to carry on walking.

Every single window in the house was covered, bathing it in a permanent twilight, lit by shallow electric lamps that were steadily getting brighter the further they moved into the large building. They passed several doors, one of which was open to show a bedroom, obviously belonging to one of the female siblings, but was evidently empty when Alfred quickly peaked inside.

The last corridor they passed through was entirely empty save for one large wooden set of double doors that were shut and locked tight with a padlock, stopping any prying eyes from seeing what was inside. It was also the only thing in the whole building that didn't seem to be coated in dust and cobwebs. Alfred found himself staring at it for several seconds before Katyusha realised that he was no longer following her and hissed at him to catch up. There was definitely something different about that room though.

She finally came to a halt at the end of a particularly long hallway where the light inside the house had seemingly been lost once more, one small stream of yellow shining out from under the door she was standing in front of. The door handle here was cleaner than all the others in the house, obviously having been used considerably more often and twisted without so much of a squeak, despite the age of the house, swinging open when Katyusha opened it.

"Ah, Ukraine, I was wondering when you would come back." The smooth voice floated out from behind a tall sofa in front of the fire place, which had flames crackling in its grate.

The room itself was more than just grand. Unlike the rest of the house, black drapes hung down around the walls instead of red and the decorations were silver, not bronze. There were several tall bookshelves lining the area closest to the fire filled with dusty old books that looked like they hadn't been read in years. The sofa was positioned in the middle of two comfortable looking arm chairs and a small coffee table where a few empty plates and cups and saucers had been discarded.

A hand moved out from the arm of the sofa, taking one of the cups for a few seconds before replacing it on the saucer, but the person, Ivan, did not look around.

"I'm not Ukraine." Katyusha whispered, looking down at the floor before moving further into the room. "Anyway, I came to collect the dishes." She started to load the dirty crockery onto the tray she had been carrying, avoiding looking at her younger brother, who was still calmly watching her. "Oh, and you have a guest."

"Is that so?" Alfred could see the man lean on the hand that was resting on the arm of the sofa. "How unusual." He finally stood, slowly taking the few steps around to the back of the seat. He whispered something quickly into his sister's ear causing her to whip around, stare at him for a few bewildered seconds before rushing from the room looking quite a state.

"She is a good girl." Alfred could tell he was smiling without having to see his face. Ivan's expressions were predictable, even if his mood wasn't. "I was hoping that you would come here. I'm glad that you have not disappointed my expectations even after three years." He finally turned to face the blonde, sly grin in place, one eyebrow quirked upwards contemplating the other man. "I must say, I think you looked better without the glasses."

"These are your fault." Alfred's voice was stiffer than he had hoped. He matched Ivan's gaze with a glare of his own, clenching and unclenching his fists as a way of distracting himself.

"Yes, yes." Ivan brushed off the comment with a wave of his hand and moving back around the sofa and sitting back down. "Have a seat. We can talk properly."

"Not a chance." Alfred growled, not moving his eyes from the back of the gang leader's head.

"But you came here to talk, did you not?" The tone of Ivan's voice was still light, though it had become slightly questioning without losing any of its confidence.

"I- There are things I need to know." Alfred tripped over his words, inwardly cursing his lack of control over the situation.

"Then ask what you need to ask."

Alfred walked around so that he stood in front of the seated man, looking at his feet rather than at Ivan himself. He held his fist so firmly now that his nails were digging painfully into the palms of his hands.

"That paper you gave me-"

"Ah yes." Ivan cut him off, folding his fingers together in contemplation. "England was glad to receive it, correct? I thought it better to return it to him."

"Why?" Alfred let his hands droop, anticipating what was sure to be a bad answer to a bad situation.

"'Why?'" He chuckled, looking up from his hands to catch a glance at the younger man's face. "'Why' you say. That's easy. I've got something _much_ more valuable than that now. Do I need to expand on that?"

Alfred swallowed hard, hoping that Ivan hadn't noticed (but knew that he had). He knew exactly what he had meant and wished for the life of him that he was wrong.

"Good." The biker leant back in the chair, his smile growing. "Is that all?"

"You know it's not." Alfred practically spat back, finally making eye-contact with the other man.

Ivan stood, forcing Alfred back a couple of paces. He looked down at him, knowing all too well how to intimidate another person to the best of his ability. It was a useful skill that he had picked up over his years of being in and leading gangs.

"Well then, hurry up." He paused, surveying the man in front of him again. "Don't waste my time, Jones." He turned away, taking a few steps forward, away from Alfred.

"You left back then." Alfred felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a chill entered the room. The flames in the fireplace had died down, leaving the weak electric lamps to light the room. "Why?"

"Another easy one, Alfred." Ivan's voice had gotten colder with the change in the room's temperature. "I couldn't have you coming after us with the police now, could I? I thought I told you not to waste my time."

"Oh, come on!" Alfred could feel himself losing his temper again. This man really did something to him that made him lose control. "You came out on top every time you took on the cops and you expect me to believe that you left the warehouse because you didn't want to get raided? Bullshit!" He was breathing heavily, glaring at the back of the platinum blonde head.

"Now, now. You mustn't shout, Jones. You might wake the neighbours."

The man's voice was now icy, much darker than its usual light tone. It was a sound that probably could have sent the toughest man running away, but Alfred stood his ground. He'd heard the voice before, but only once, when they had raided that gang for the first time and Ivan had taken out their original leader. He had spoken like that before striking him for the last time. But he couldn't back down! Braginski still hadn't answered the question!

"You abandoned the gang, but stayed here and you expect me to believe that you didn't want me to tell the police where you were? How stupid do you think I am?" His fists were clenched up again. "You ran away Braginski!" Ivan had stiffened up. Got him! "You ran away like a fucking coward!"

Swing.

_Crash!_

Alfred had ducked just in time to see the coffee table get smashed into pieces beside him.

Ivan's bar was now embedded in the mess of wood chips, gripped at one end by the man himself. It was rare to see him with such a serious expression fixed on his face. The smile was gone, replaced by a thin line and his eyes looked wild. His pupils small and manic.

He moved to swing the bar around again, missing the younger man by centimetres as he rolled out of the way, instead hitting the floor with a loud thud. The sequence repeated itself, Ivan chasing Alfred around the few feet of space that they were occupying until Alfred vaulted over the sofa to avoid being hit by the giant man when he lashed out again.

He landed clumsily, his glasses falling off his face with a small tinkle on the wooden floor, the light of the lamps reflecting in the lenses.

Alfred looked up in time to see the large black boot step in front of him and the small crunch of his glasses as they were destroyed.

A hand grabbed hold of his hair, pulling him back up off the floor to face the giant man, whose smile was now firmly set back on his lips.

"Ah, yes." Ivan cooed, "I much prefer seeing you face like this. It's so much easier to see such defiance and anger when your eyes aren't covered, don't you agree?"

Alfred struggled against the grip on his head, ignoring the pain as his hair pulled at the roots. Everything in the room was a complete blur now, all expect for the face of the man in front of him, which he could see in much too much detail for his liking, positioned only a couple of inches away from his.

He could feel Ivan's breath mingling with his own, making him feel sick to his stomach as the gap between them closed another inch.

The door burst open abruptly behind him and he felt the grip on his hair tighten as the gang leader stopped him from moving around to see what commotion was now ensuing, though it was pretty easy to guess from the voice that was shouting from the doorway.

"Stop right there!" The rest of the sentence finished with some offensive German that Alfred didn't understand, but knew instantly that Gilbert was throwing the words around.

There was a scuffling noise and a thump, followed by some more violent swearing before some more footsteps stopped by the door and another voice sighed. "You shouldn't be so violent with girls, Gil." It was Antonio this time, and by the sounds of it Lovino was panting his lungs out from next to him.

"She shouldn't have tried to get away then." Gilbert's voice was annoyingly calm, despite the fact that it sounded like he had just tried to knock out one of Ivan's sisters. "Oh no you don't." There was a clang, more swearing, this time from a girl, mixed with some of Gilbert's barks of laughter.

"I wasn't expecting quite so many visitors." Ivan's voice had an edge to it, signalling his annoyance. His grip on Alfred's hair had slackened but he was still holding on to his injured wrist, sending waves of pain up his forearm but it still allowed Alfred to swing himself around to see the three men standing in the doorway, Gilbert holding Natalia hard up against it so she couldn't move. She had lost her usual biking attire and was instead wearing a more formal looking dress with matching Mary-Jane shoes, making her look younger than when she was dressed up for her more violent antics and despite all this, she was decidedly struggling against her captor, trying to move her right arm which had been pulled up behind, gripping her own piping. "I suggest you let my sister go."

"Well I _suggest_ you let our friend go." Gilbert's voice hadn't lost any of its bite in the struggle and Alfred could see the smirk appear on his face as he denied his old boss what he wanted. "You didn't think we'd just let you come and be Mr Hero by yourself, did you Al? You're pretty easy to follow, y'know?" He sniggered at the blonde's expression, rearranging his hold on the female biker so that he was more comfortable, before turning his cocky grin back on the gang leader.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." The tone of Ivan's voice rivalled Gilbert's easily, taking on the exact same register as his ex-subordinate. "You see, Alfred and I were in the middle of coming to a little _agreement_." His hand moved to Alfred's chin, tilting his head upwards.

Then Alfred felt something disgusting. Ivan's face was next to his, he could see his violet eyes in the corner of his line of sight. His breath was even closer than it had been before as the man's tongue ran up the length of his cheek, leaving Alfred feeling like he was going to vomit just from the very feel of it. He knew that the sadistic grin had returned to Ivan's face and screwed his eyes shut in an attempt not to see or even imagine it.

"Take your fucking hands _off _him!"

Alfred's eyes flew open to rest upon the short blonde man who had joined his three friends in the doorway. He was panting slightly, obviously having run from the front of the house to find the others. Arthur's glare was fierce it was surprising his eyebrows hadn't knotted themselves together.

"Trust you to get lost, Artie." Gilbert shot the new arrival a quick grin before turning his attention back to the problem in front of them.

"Shut it, git." Arthur hissed back, not even bothering to look at his friend.

Ivan didn't even see it coming, and cursed himself for momentarily losing his focus as he felt the bar leave his hand.

Alfred, despite his lack of sight, had used the man's lack of concentration to grab hold of the lead pipe, pulling it from the gang leader's hand before spitting in his face so that the hold on his wrist was broken.

Realising his mistake, Ivan dodged the swing that Alfred aimed at him, jumping back a couple of feet so that he was out of reach.

"Well, we always did praise you for your speed." He glowered at Alfred, the smile momentarily flickering off his features.

Alfred was breathing heavily. His eyes stung from the loss of his glasses and he had to fight his own urges to rub away the irritation, knowing that if he lost sight of the giant man for just a second then he'd be dead.

Someone cursed loudly from behind him and Alfred dodged to the side just in time as something flew past him and Ivan caught it. He knew the smile had grown on the other man's lips even if he couldn't see it. He also knew exactly what had been thrown to him.

Natalia had been tackled back to the ground by Lovino who was now muttering something in what sounded like Italian and Gilbert had taken to swearing again before audibly being elbowed by someone (most likely Arthur).

The bar in Ivan's hand was shorter than the one Alfred had taken from him, suited to his sister's tastes rather than his own, but it was better than nothing. He had a weapon, and that was the most important thing.

The next few seconds were like a blur to Arthur. He saw the gang leader move lashing around with the bar, and then he was standing where Alfred had been, and the blonde was a few feet to one side, wielding the stolen piping defensively. The younger man's speed was amazing even when he had lost the majority of his sight and when the next move was made the Englishman made sure to watch the other man more carefully, seeing the bar miss him by inches as he ducked and swept another few paces to the right.

It was in his next feat, however, that Alfred's luck ran out. He dodged out of the way of Ivan's attack without a problem, but missed his footing and slammed into the back of the sofa.

Ivan didn't miss the opportunity that had now been laid out in front of him and swept forward, striking Alfred hard across his injured shoulder, sending him crashing onto the floor.

Alfred anticipated the next move, clenching his fists as the gang leader's foot made contact with his stomach but he couldn't stop his eyes from streaming from the effort of trying to see without his glasses and the strangled yelp that made its way up his throat. He was kicked again, making him fall painfully onto his side before the taller man raised the bar again.

But this time nothing happened and looking up Alfred could see the blurred shape of another man clinging onto the other end of the rod, preventing Ivan from swinging it forwards.

Arthur clung to the metal desperately. He'd had quite enough of watching Alfred getting smashed to pieces by the other man, and failed to see why he shouldn't step in and help. He could see how much effort it was taking Alfred just to be able to see what Russia was doing, let alone dodge his attacks. It was just turning into a game of cat and mouse, and Alfred was most definitely the mouse.

Ivan swung his arm around, trying to shake the smaller blonde away and loosen his grip so that he could carry on with the job at hand, but it was turning into an impossible feat to carry out. The man was a lot more stubborn than he had originally thought. Was this all it took for his subordinates to stand up against him? One idiotic child appears on the scene and suddenly no one's scared anymore. Unbelievable.

He threw Arthur forward more violently this time, making the blonde trip over his own feet and fall forwards. But then something hooked around his ankles and pulled him backwards, sending him crashing to the hard floor.

"You two alright?" Antonio jumped back up, satisfied with the job he had just done.

Alfred had caught Arthur when he had fallen, and the two were now helping each other to their feet, the smaller taking the majority of the taller's weight as he staggered to his feet.

"I've been through worse." Alfred rolled his shoulder, feeling the bandage sticking to it where Ivan had hit him.

"That's not the point, idiot!" Arthur elbowed him hard in his side, causing the other blonde to flinch away slightly as the feeling of the gang leader's attack came back.

"Eurgh. Did you have to do that?" He felt sick from his lack of sight, feeling like the room was both completely blurred around him, and that it was spinning.

Arthur hoisted him up again, looking as if he'd just killed the other man. Alfred's head dangled in front of him before he lifted it up again to try and make out what was going on around him again, though his hair still covered a lot of his features.

He had just about managed to make out the shapes of Lovino practically sitting on Natalia before Gilbert's shouts caught his attention again. Alfred's gaze snapped back to the doorway where the albino was now slumped, muttering something in German and clutching his waist.

Ivan was now sprinting back down the corridor, bar still in hand, his scarf billowing out behind him.

The next thing Arthur knew, the weight at his side had left him as the blur of a bomber jacket rushed forwards and out of the open door, dodging around the angry German's form on the floor. He looked around for the others, seeing Antonio rush to Gilbert's side to make sure he was alright, and Lovino pressing down harder on the gang's second in command as she tried to follow her brother out of the room.

"Go after him." Antonio's voice broke through the confusion, as Arthur tore his eyes away from the disappearing figure of Alfred running down the corner. "Go on! He's going to get himself killed at this rate!"

It was the only prompt he needed. Arthur leapt forwards, darting past his friends as he rushed down the corridor after Alfred.

The taller blonde had already turned the first corner and was rapidly making his way down to the next. Arthur could only make him out by his hair down the dark hallways, his jacket blending in completely with the dim lighting. He was far too fast for his own good.

But Arthur was fast too, and he knew it. He'd be able to catch up, no problem.

Alfred turned another bend, coming face-to-face with an open set of double doors, the same large doors that had been locked when he had been following Katyusha. They opened into complete and utter darkness, the only light coming from what little there was in the corridor he was standing in.

With no other option looming in his mind, he felt no choice but to take the few steps inside the room, bathing himself in the pitch black.

"Alfred, wait!" The running footsteps echoed down the hallway as Arthur turned the last corner.

He made the last few strides towards the room before Alfred realised what he had just walked into.

"Arthur, don't!"

But it was too late.

Arthur sprinted into the room behind him, practically knocking them both over before the door slammed shut behind them, cutting out any source of light there had once been and leaving them blind, waiting for the gang leader to make his first move.


	17. 17 Fire

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 17_

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Alfred felt Arthur stumble backwards as soon as the light was shut out and they were plummeted into darkness. It was impossible to see even a hand right in front of his face, let alone the crazed gang leader that he knew only too well was looming somewhere in the room. Heck, he didn't even know how big the room was! There could have been an army of manic bikers in there for all he knew.

"Alfred?" Arthur's voice rang out through the black space with a clear edge to it, his accent standing out all the more from it.

"I'm here." He replied, wishing for the life of him that his eyes would adjust to the lack of light even without the luxury of his glasses.

Something reached out and tugged on the sleeve of his jacket, causing him to nearly rip it off himself and then grab whoever it was and use the bar the he still held in his hand on them.

"That _is_ you, right?" It was Arthur. Thank God!

"You do know you nearly got a lead pipe to the face just then? Don't _do_ that!"

The other man didn't reply and Alfred could just imagine the crease in his brow as the grip on his arm tightened slightly. _Oh yeah Alfred, what a great mess you've gotten into _this_ time!_

He broke the contact between them briefly, instead clasping holding of the other's smaller hand with his and holding the bar up in front of him, anticipating any attack that he knew was going to come their way.

"Al, what are-?"

"Shh." Alfred shushed him, still trying to force his eyes to see through the wall of darkness that was surrounding them. "He can hear everything we say."

"That's true."

The voice came from right next to him as Alfred whipped around, swinging the bar wide in a fruitless attempt to hit the man but to no prevail.

His arm was suddenly jerked to one side and Arthur's hand wrenched from his grip, vanishing back into the shadows before the clicking of a lighter started from close by.

The flame jumped into life, illuminating the small area of the room that the three of them were occupying. The small orange light cast dark shadows over both Ivan's and Arthur's features, making the taller man all the more terrifying as he held the lighter up under the smaller man's chin, holding him firmly in place with his hand on the back of his former subordinate's neck, digging his nails into the mess of blonde hair.

Most of the room was still in complete darkness, but the small fire had now caused the doors to reappear behind Ivan, showing Alfred his and Arthur's only route of escape. Surrounding that were a couple of tables, each covered with different books and papers that had been ripped to shreds and scattered over the wooden surfaces, looking crinkled and burnt, definitely damaged beyond repair and if anything, they summed up the gang leader the best: haphazard and broken.

"_Two little flies trapped in a web, _

_Should really be more careful where they tread,_

_A spider lurks in the dark waiting and watching,_

_Feeling their hearts fill with dread."_

The flame glinted in the violet eyes, making them look even wilder than usual. Ivan was well within his comfort zone, and it was only too obvious. Fire, after all, was what he worked best with.

Every time Arthur struggled the lighter was moved closer to his face, and with Ivan holding him still from behind, it was impossible for him to move anywhere.

"I must say that I was surprised." He tilted Arthur's head up violently, making the smaller man flinch as his hair was pulled. "I would never have pictured you to be the type of person to chase after Jones, England. Isn't he rather extravagant? Oh come now, I'm just making conversation." He replied to the glare that Arthur shot at him, grinning at the shorter blonde. "And what about you Jones? What is England to you?" He sniggered, following the shadows on Alfred's face.

Alfred murmured something, taking a few steps forward towards the blurred figures in the light. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't make his eyes focus with so little light in the room, and they stung badly without his glasses.

"What was that?" Ivan's smirk grew as the boy got closer.

"I said his name's Arthur!" Alfred yelled, stopping a few feet from the other two.

Arthur stopped struggling in Ivan's grip to stare at Alfred, his arms falling back to his sides. His eyes had gone wide at the other man's outburst, seeing him enter further into the light of the small fire, positively seething at Russia. He'd gotten angry to defend him. _Alfred_, the man who until the previous night had always been so carefree, had gotten angry to defend _him_.

"Ooh." Ivan breathed out, readjusting his grasp on the back on Arthur's neck. "Oh this is _interesting!_" He barked out a short laugh, not moving his gaze from the figure in front of him. "You've changed in three years. I'll tell you something, Jones. That last time in the warehouse was the first time anyone managed to hit me. Oh yes, I've had my fair share of injuries, haven't we all? But you were the first to actually _hit_ me. No one's ever gotten that close since, either. So why, when you of all people should know the consequences, would you put someone _important_ to you in harm's way again? That's the one thing I don't understand."

Alfred focused his eyes as best he could on Ivan's, ignoring the stinging that threatened to make tears roll down his cheeks. He could feel the sweat on his hand from where he had been gripping the bar for so long, making it feel sticky and uncomfortable. But it was also hidden in the shadows at his side, out of the light of the flame that was still flickering horribly close to Arthur's ear.

"I have changed." He took another step forwards, "But you haven't." Another step. "You're still the same sadistic asshole that you were back then. You don't care what happens to the people around you as long as you get what you want." Ivan's grin flickered. "But I'm not scared of you anymore. I know what you're like. If things don't go your way then you lash out at whoever happens to be there at the time. You target what's most important to the people who oppose you and then beat them down until they have no choice but to follow your way of doing things." Three feet left. "You run away when things turn in a direction that you didn't expect, but when you hit a dead end and run out of options then you go straight back onto the offensive like you have now. You're so predictable."

Alfred stopped with less than two feet left between them. He could feel Arthur's green eyes looking up at him. They were strangely reassuring despite the fact that Ivan's equally intense eyes were boring down at him.

He swung the bar up at such a speed that Ivan barely had time to defend against it. He let go of Arthur and brought his arm up in front of his face, taking the full force of what Alfred through at him, being careful not to drop the lighter and lose the only source of light in the room, knowing full well that he too would be at a disadvantage if it was lost.

Arthur felt himself getting pulled back by the taller blonde, ending up crouched behind the practically blind man who was still wielding the lead piping in front of him, ready for any move the gang leader might attempt. Alfred breathing was a lot heavier than normal, and it was now painfully obvious how much trouble it was causing him trying to see.

Blood was already soaking into the sleeve of Ivan's shirt where his ex-partner had hit him, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. Pain was a weakness and he would not let himself submit to it.

The smile had now been completely wiped from the man's face, being replaced by a harsh glare that easily surpassed that of Arthur's. It was something that Alfred remembered only too well that would make even the toughest gang leader question opposing the man. It was why they had been so successful in all their raids.

Then something moved and the next thing Arthur knew was that he was being thrown backwards and out of the way of a massive blur that had now hurtled into Alfred, waving the lighter in front of him, threatening to set anything in his path alight.

Alfred had disappeared somewhere into the shadows, leaving Ivan alone in his small patch of light. He could see the glowing blur on the other side of the room next to what looked like a rather large bed. It was obvious to tell that this room was decorated in a similar fashion to Ivan's study, expect for the fact that it appeared that the gang leader had destroyed a large amount of his possessions in this room.

He darted back out into the light, making another swing at the taller man and feeling the flame lick at his face in response before something a lot harder made contact with his shoulder again. Ivan had evidently found his sister's weapon again.

The clanging of the bars echoed throughout the room, ringing in Arthur's ears as he watched the two other men dodge and defend against each other's attacks. There was no way he would be able to get in between them without either him or Alfred getting seriously injured in the act. Russia was far too strong for him.

Alfred, however, seemed to be able to equal the gang leader's strength, much to his annoyance. No matter what Ivan threw at him, Alfred could either defend against it or avoid it completely only to throw his own attack towards the other man, he was very rarely hit himself.

And then the light suddenly disappeared, leaving them all completely blind in the pitch black once more. Ivan had shut the lighter.

A loud clang rang out as something hard hit the wooden floor and Arthur felt himself jump off the floor and rush forwards, not caring what he found in front of him.

A harsh breath choked out in the dark, bringing the smaller blonde to a halt. His eyes were adjusting and he could just about make out the shapes of the two men in front of him, the taller towering down over the smaller, who now had his arms brought up to his neck, trying to force a long object away from his throat.

"Predictable, eh?" Ivan whispered into Alfred's ear, revelling in the struggle the younger man was having in breathing. "You didn't see this coming, though, did you?"

The door suddenly burst back opening, bathing the three of them in the dim lighting from the hallway outside. A figure ran into the room, attaching itself to the gang leader's back, trying to force him to let go of the bar he was holding up against Alfred's throat.

"Ivan, no! That's enough!" Katyusha's voice was strained as she fought against her younger brother's grip. She struggled to reach the bar to push it away from Alfred, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes when Ivan refused to relinquish his grip.

"Don't interfere, sister." Ivan's voice was cold, lacking any emotion for his sister. He didn't even spare her a glance as she continued her futile effort to make him release his grasp.

"No! This has gone far enough!" She prised herself between the two men, joining Alfred in pushing the bar away from his neck. "What would Mama say?"

"Mat'?" Ivan's grip finally loosened, allowing Alfred to duck away, collapsing as he tried to get his breath back. "She stopped caring as soon as she left to be with that man! And then she left us with another little sister to care for!"

Katyusha turned to face her brother, but didn't meet his gaze.

Arthur had run to help Alfred, supporting him as his breaths came in harsh coughs and splutters. His eyes were streaming from the effort it was taking him to see, but he still watched the other man, not wanting to lose sight of him for a second in case he did something unthinkable.

"She loved us, Ivan." Katyusha said simply, looking away from him again, instead staring at the bits of burnt paper that was scattered on the tables.

The two of them remained in silence after that, not moving from their respective positions in front of one another. A series of small clicks rattled in the dark before something was thrown onto the bed, flickering slightly before the covers started smoking.

Alfred's mind stopped. The unthinkable had just happened. Fire was always his last resort.

He grabbed Arthur's arm, pulling himself to his feet before grasping hold of the smaller hand and making a dash for the door before the flames started to spread.

"Come on!" He shouted at Katyusha, turning around in the doorway to see the two siblings standing stock still in the bedroom.

The woman looked up at him, smiling, before shaking her head shortly and bringing her brother's head into her arms and cradling it gently. Closing her eyes, Katyusha felt the heat in the room intensify as the fire spread of the covers to the wooden frame of the bed. "You'd best find your friends and leave quickly." She glanced up at the two men again, "And take Natalia with you. It's about time she stopped following us and walked on her own."

Arthur felt Alfred's grip tighten on his hand, and saw his expression harden. "We will." He muttered before turning on his heel and running away from the room, pulling the shorter man along with him.

Alfred could hear Arthur shouting something after him as they sped back through the corridors. The door to the study was still left open and by the look of it, the four people inside had calmed down since their disappearance.

Antonio looked up as they entered the room, missing the urgency on their faces. "Ah, you're back! Thank God! I think Gil's got a broken rib or something-"

Arthur swept past him, looping an arm under Gilbert's shoulder before glaring back at the Spaniard. "Well come on then! Give me a hand!"

"What's going on?" Lovino was batted to one side by Alfred who, much to her horror, scooped Natalia up and swung her over his shoulder, ignoring the kicks that were aimed at his chest and the tickling sensation that her hair was causing on his neck.

"We need to go." He spoke shortly before heading back out the door, still overlooking Natalia's shouts.

Antonio helped Arthur to lift Gilbert to his feet despite the man's frequent statements that he could _"fucking walk by himself!"_ and jerked his head for Lovino to follow Alfred out first, there was no way he was going to let him go last and end up getting left behind.

"So what actually happened?" Antonio heaved Gilbert forward another couple of paces, glancing at Arthur, whose concentration was overshadowed by the obvious distressed that was marked all over his face.

"Bastard set fire to the house." Arthur muttered, struggling with Gilbert's weight resting on his shoulders.

Lovino glanced over his shoulder, the shock clearly showing on his face. Gilbert muttered something in audible from next to him as Arthur's pace sped up when he noticed Alfred already turning the first corner. He was surprisingly fast, even when he was carrying a very disgruntled Belarus over his shoulder.

"Get your fucking hands _off _me!" Natalia's voice screeched down the hallway and when the four former gang members caught up with them they weren't surprised to see the woman trying to prise herself from Alfred's grip when she was faced with the image of the burning room in front of them.

The fire had spread across the full length of one wall now and was quickly engulfing the surrounding objects. The light flickered menacingly out into the corridor, its heat intense as it crackled louder than even Natalia's shouts for her siblings as Alfred dragged her away from the scene.

It was not a pretty sight as the flames took hold of the open doorway, leaping out into the hall as they sprinted past it.

Lovino had his phone pressed to his ear and was shouting into it, calling for the fire service to come to the house, pausing only to double check where they were.

The smoke was travelling through the house at an alarming speed, irritating Alfred's eyes even more. It was getting ridiculous with how little he could see, and kept having to stop to make sure he was going the right way. Why did the house have to be so damn _big_?

And then there was light. It came as a wave of relief when Alfred could finally feel the cool air at the entrance to the building. The others must have left the door open when they had come bursting in. However the heat behind them was quickly catching up as the fire spread through the decrepit old house. The wooden framing wouldn't hold out for long now that the walls were catching alight.

Even when they had gotten outside Alfred had to struggle to contain Natalia, trying to stop her from rushing back inside the house. He'd forgotten how strong that girl could be when her mind was set. It was one of the reasons she was so dangerous.

It wasn't long before the blare of sirens could be heard in the midmorning air, the red truck soon circling the corner at the end of the road before coming to a halt in front of them.

An ambulance had also been sent as a precaution and the paramedics were quickly crowded around Gilbert and Alfred, one of them carefully taking the distressed Natalia to one side while others started tending to Alfred's wounds, his shoulder and arm taken into particular consideration.

Gilbert was busy complaining that he was fine bur was still hefted up into the back of the vehicle so that they could get a better look at him. Lovino took great pleasure in pointing out that the albino was flinching every time one of the paramedics touched the place where he had been struck by the gang leader.

Arthur had taken to quietly watching Alfred get treated, his arm had fresh bandages applied to it and his eyes were examined carefully as the younger man was asked a series of questions to which he avoided giving any straight answers.

A small group of firemen had entered the burning building, hoses in tow to beat back the flames that were still spreading on the inside of the house. The smoke was now billowing out of the front door, though no flames could be seen as of yet, it was still too soon.

It wasn't long, however, until one of the men reappeared carrying a figure wearing distinct overalls, which were now charred by the flames that she had been trapped in.

Natalia finally broke free of the paramedic that had been restraining her, shouting for her sister as she practically knocked the fireman over in her attempt to see Katyusha. She was placed in the ambulance with Gilbert for the paramedics to look after before the man retreated back into the building before the youngest of the three siblings started interrogating him about her brother.

More and more sirens were blaring around the corner, another ambulance appearing along with several police cars.

Natalia was quickly taken to one side by an officer to be questioned, reminding Alfred just how long they had been searching for her and her brother. They were, after all, wanted for their offences that tied in with their gang activities.

The ambulance holding Katyusha and Gilbert closed its doors after Antonio quickly jumped in, accompanying their friend to the hospital and Alfred was taken into the second one so they could treat his wounds properly, though they didn't follow the others to the hospital.

The police questioned everyone who was still at the scene, Alfred's interrogation taking a particularly long time because of his previous involvement with Ivan and Natalia and also because he seemed to be the only one left there who seemed to be injured, but again, he wasn't packed into one of the patrol cars as Natalia had been, and was left watch the last of the firemen exit the wrecked building, not finding anyone else inside.

* * *

"So they didn't find him then?" Gilbert was sitting up on the hospital bed, still looking slightly uncomfortable.

The group of them were all sitting around the small hospital room, waiting for him to be discharged (which wouldn't be too long judging by how Gilbert was treating every nurse that entered the room to check his blood pressure or to give him his next dose of pain killers).

"No." Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his forehead and yawning. "No sign of the wanker. The police were still searching for him when we were brought over here."

They had been in the hospital for several hours now, first waiting for Gilbert's diagnosis and Alfred's examinations to finish, then receiving the news that Gilbert did indeed have two broken ribs where he had been hit, and now they were just waiting to be told that the now rather impatient and loud-mouthed man would be allowed to leave.

"Maaan!" Gilbert groaned, stretching on the bed. "I hate hospitals! Why couldn't they just let that glasses idiot take care of everything?"

"Roderich's got enough on his plate right now, don't you think?" Antonio frowned from his position in the chair next to the bed, absentmindedly playing with the hem of Lovino's shirt as he perched on the arm of the seat. "I mean, he had a major casualty show up last night, then you and Francis appear out of the blue with Peter. The poor guy must be exhausted."

"That woman'll be alright though, won't she?" Lovino batted the Spaniard's hand away, huffing at him. "I mean, they found her pretty quickly."

"If she's anything like her brother, then she'll be fine." Antonio's usually bright smile was tired as he looked up at the younger Italian.

"She's nothing like her brother." Alfred muttered from the corner of the room. He had been silent since he entered the room once his examinations had finished, instead remaining away from the rest of the group, not wanting to be crowded too much.

They had seen Katyusha getting wheeled off to the emergency ward as soon as she arrived at the hospital, an oxygen mask strapped to her face and several doctors quickly gathering around, ready to start treatment.

That was the last they had seen of her, the doctors not telling them any details of her condition, rather concentrating on keeping a bored Gilbert under control.

Arthur stood up from the bed, crossing the room in quick strides and stood in front of the figure slumped in the corner. Alfred didn't look up, keeping his gaze locked on the floor, even if the action of staring still made his eyes itch.

He crouched down, lifting up Alfred's now dirt free face, searching his brilliantly blue eyes. He really did look so much younger without his glasses.

"She'll be fine, Al." He smiled, running his thumb along the other man's cheekbone. "After looking after those two for so long she's got to made of sturdy stuff. If she's got the courage to stay in a burning building, then she's brave enough to make a full recovery. Okay?"

Alfred closed his eyes, letting his head flop forwards to rest on Arthur's chest. He shuddered slightly before letting his arms rest around the smaller man's waist. Arthur moved his hands so that they brushed through the other's hair, carefully combing out the tangles with his fingers. He felt his expression warm when Alfred gave him a quick squeeze in his own little way of letting the older man know he was alright.

"Well now, this _is_ a development!" Gilbert's cackles cut through the room, bringing Arthur's attention straight back to the three other occupants.

"Put a sock in it, git." The Brit growled, scowling at his injured friend, making a mental note to make the man suffer later on.

Gilbert laughed, but then decided that the action was a bad idea when the pain returned in his side, glowering at Arthur when he smirked.

"Come on then." Arthur hefted Alfred back up off of the floor, allowing the taller man to lean on him slightly (though not too much because he was so damn _heavy!_). "Have you got another pair?" He motioned to Alfred's eyes, the concern for his lack of glasses showing on his face, even if the other man couldn't see it properly.

"Yeah." Alfred raised his hand to his face out of habit, still not used to his glasses not being perched on the bridge of his nose. "Back at the apartment."

"Good." He stood back up straight, rolling his shoulders into a more comfortable position. "You know if you don't stop whinging then they're never going to let you go." He raised an eyebrow at Gilbert who was now massaging his side, trying to make it stop hurting.

"You could be more sympathetic, y'know." Gilbert scowled, trying not to flinch again. "And here I was thinking that having the old you back was a good thing."

"Of course it's a good thing." Arthur placed his hands on his hips, glad to know that his confidence (_arrogance_) hadn't suffered. "Now I don't have to worry about anyone stopping me from giving you what's coming to you."

He chuckled. It was as if a weight had finally been lifted off his back after the event of the last few hours. He was finally free from that idiotic mess that he had gotten himself into and damn, if that didn't feel good then he didn't know what did.

The detail that Braginski had disappeared nagged at the back of Alfred's head less than it probably should have, but that was a minor spec at that minute in time. He'd only seen Arthur smirk like that once, and that was when he was bully him just after they had first met those couple of months ago, but he didn't look this relaxed back then. He actually genuinely looked _happy_ (even if Gilbert was suffering for it…).

It was only when a nurse finally entered the room and told them that Gilbert was free to leave and to _"stop this noise at once, this is a hospital!"_ that the commotion ended.


	18. 18 Airports and Goodbyes

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 18_

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"Ah! Finally!"

Gilbert slumped back on the sofa, massaging the twinge that he still got in his side every now and again, and picking up a very comforting looking bottle of beer.

"Honestly, the only time when you're not supposed to exert yourself you insist that you're too bored not to help! What's the matter with you?" Arthur took his usual position in his chair next to the sofa, nursing his own mug of tea.

It had been three weeks since the fire at the gang leader's house, and they were just beginning to be able to get back into their normal routine of things. Arthur had decided that it was about time he tidied up his apartment (he had a horrible habit of losing things in there…) and despite the groans and complaints from the others, he had roped them into helping him, including Gilbert who was still meant to be resting (_Stupid git…_).

The apartment itself had seemed rather lonely during those couple of weeks. Peter had opted to stay with Tino and Berwald for a lot of it, leaving Arthur alone there once he had finished work, although frequent visits from Alfred and the others helped things along a bit, though he still found it strange not having his little brother darting around all the time. It was also weird not going up to Alfred's apartment every day to pick the boy up. It was… unnerving in a way. As if he had nothing left to do.

He was, however, spending a lot more time with Alfred, evening helping the student with his studies (Literature really wasn't his area of expertise even if he was majoring in it, especially when Shakespeare was concerned).

At that particular moment in time Alfred had left the room to heft a large box downstairs to the trash, ready to be picked up with the next rubbish collection. His arm had finally started to show that it was definitely healing, though like with the scar on his waist, Alfred preferred to keep it bandaged and out of sight at all times.

"I always forget how much stuff you've got." Antonio heaved himself onto his usual position on one of the kitchen counters, Lovino not far from him, still sorting through a box of utensils.

"Yeah, well a lot of it is sentimental stuff." Arthur took another gulp of tea, relaxing further down in his seat. He briefly glanced over a box of old looking ornaments, smiling at the memory of them all positioned around the walls and on the mantelpiece of his parents' old house when they had moved to the States. He could even remember glimpses of some of them in their home in London before they had emigrated. He chuckled, batting away the thought that he was getting old.

"Is it alright if I make coffee?" Lovino moved further into the kitchen without waiting for a response from the other man, busying himself instantly (much to Antonio's amusement).

"Hey, make us some too?" Alfred reappeared through the door, yawning and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He stretched, striding across the room before flopping onto the floor at Arthur's feet, leaning back on the older man's knees.

Lovino nodded, his expression unchanging as he added more coffee to the machine so that there was enough for the blonde.

"Tired?" Arthur chuckled softly, letting his free hand play with Alfred's hair where it fell across his legs.

The blue eyes looked up at him, untainted by the shadow his new glasses cast across them. His gaze had become gentle again, finally returning to the more carefree nature that Arthur had become used to before all the mess had happened.

A hot mug was passed to him, causing Arthur to wrinkle his nose at the strong smell of the liquid, coffee never surpassed a good cup of tea in his books, however Alfred started gulping it down appreciatively. He sighed, looking down at the top of the blonde head at his feet, wondering just how long it would take before the caffeine would kick in, making Alfred as hyper as he usually was.

"Dude, stop looking so down in the dumps." Alfred was now staring up at him, his head resting back on the small gap on the chair next to where Arthur was seated. He grinned, reaching up to poke the corner of the older man's lips, pushing it up into a lopsided smile, while Arthur's brows gave away his disapproving frown, but couldn't keep it up for long before he smiled back at the teen. "That's more like it!" Alfred cheered, pumping his fist into the air in triumph.

"Alright, alright. Calm down." Arthur pushed the excitable man's back down, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "Remind me not to give you coffee anymore."

"What are you? His mother?" Gilbert sniggered from the sofa, taking another swig from his bottle before discarding it to one side. "The guy's old enough to look after himself, Artie."

"Damn right I am!" Alfred agreed wholeheartedly, nudging Arthur's legs with his shoulder. "I'm just that awesome!"

"A ten year old could look after themself better than you could." Arthur retorted, kicking Arthur in response to the nudge.

"And the only awesome one in this room is the awesome me!" Gilbert chipped in, laughing at his own remark.

"You wish!" Alfred stretched, nearly pouring the remainder of his coffee over Arthur before leaping back up off the floor. "I could take you on any time!"

"Oh you are so on!" Gilbert started getting up, smirk set firmly upon his face, before he was pushed hard back onto the sofa.

"Ooh no you don't." Antonio scolded, wagging his finger mockingly at his friend, not showing the slightest bit of sympathy for the pain he had just caused him. "You're _supposed_ to be resting. And Alfred, don't encourage him. You know what this lump is like." He rolled his eyes then stole the last of Lovino's coffee, much to the younger man's annoyance.

A hand rested on Alfred's shoulder and he turned to find Arthur stood behind him. "You got a minute?" His expression was more stern than usual, which was saying something considering how stuffy the man could be when he decided to be stubborn.

"Yeah, sure."

He let Arthur take the lead, following the other man out of the apartment and down the stairs. Neither of them spoke, letting their footsteps echo down the stairwell as they walked and not really noticing when they exited the block into the light of the early dusk.

The orange light settled on both of their faces, the shadows of the buildings on the opposite side of the street not quite reaching their side of the road.

It was quiet even for a weekend. Usually there was a small group of children from down the street that would be playing out in the road, not have to worry too much about cars driving through the small neighbourhood.

Arthur had his back to him so that Alfred could only see his silhouette is the low sunlight. His hands were folded together behind his back like he was thinking, though about what Alfred couldn't fathom.

They'd only just managed to get back into a regular routine of things but Arthur already seemed distracted. Over the last few days he would go quiet at random intervals, not speaking to any of them for several minutes until one of them would catch his attention. Occasionally he and Antonio would be seen muttering to each other when they thought no one was watching, but Alfred was pretty sure he had caught them every time. It was… troubling, to say in the least.

"It's getting colder." Alfred commented, brushing off the shiver that was itching its way up his back.

And then he was pulled forwards suddenly, Arthur pressing his lips hard to Alfred's in a rough kiss. He was gripping onto the neck of Alfred's (new) bomber jacket as if his life depended on it, not moving even when the other's stronger arms lopped themselves around him as Alfred attempted to relax the contact between them into something more comfortable.

"What brought _that_ on?" Alfred continued holding Arthur even when the kiss was broken, letting the smaller man remain pressed against his chest, clinging onto the front of his jacket. "Not that it wasn't nice or anything." He added quickly.

Arthur nuzzled further into his jacket, brushing up against the fleeced lapels. He sniffed, but didn't look up at the man who was holding him. It was comforting how well they fit together. They were just the right heights for Alfred to be able to hold Arthur in such a way, despite how much the older man hated being called short by his friends (it was always their favourite way of teasing him).

"I've been thinking." He sighed, voice muffled in Alfred's chest before he moved away, turning his back to the younger man once more. "A lot of things have happened recently."

"Yeah." Alfred agreed, chuckling at how Arthur's ears were the slightest tinge of red.

"And I kind of thought it would be nice to have a break." Arthur continued, ignoring the laugh that had come from behind him.

"It's nearly Christmas, y'know."

"Not that kind of break, idiot." He glanced over his shoulder, frowning quickly at Alfred before looking ahead again. "I thought… well… I thought that maybe I'd like to go back to England for a while." He rushed the last part, not quite sure how to say it.

"What?" Alfred thought he had misheard the man; his sentence _had_ been rather unclear after all. But he was almost one hundred per cent sure he had heard right.

"It's _'pardon'_, not _'what'_, twat." Arthur corrected him by habit, finally turning to face the other blonde. His face was now shadowed by the setting sunlight on his back as it seeped lower behind the houses on the other side of the road. "And I was just thinking that I needed to get away for a while, you know? See if things have changed since I left. It's not that I'm tired of things here or anything, I just thought that going back for a while might be good and that I could visit family or something and maybe get some things from there to show Peter because he's never been to England even though we're British, and-"

"Arthur." Alfred cut him off, pressing his hand against the Brit's mouth to silence him. "You're rambling again." He smiled, then moved his hand away again, allowing the other man to breathe. "When are you leaving?"

"Huh?" Arthur stood wide-eyed in front of him, his mouth gaping comically at Alfred's question.

"Well you've already planned it all, haven't you?" Alfred rolled his eyes, shaking his head in a mockery of Arthur's tone when he was annoyed with him. "I'm not as dense as everyone thinks I am, you know."

"No." He smiled, brushing the other's hair out of his eyes. "No, you're full of surprises that way." He pressed another chaste kiss to Alfred's lips, brushing softly against them. "In another couple of weeks."

Arthur looked away upon answering Alfred's question. He knew only too well what expression the teen would be wearing. His bright blue eyes would be wide and his mouth would be gaping open slightly in that child-like manner that he often adopted.

"That soon, huh?" Alfred finally stuttered out, tripping over his words slightly.

"Yeah." He spoke shortly, still not looking around.

"For how long?"

"I don't know." Arthur's voice was breaking, and he knew that if he turned around just the mere sight of the other man would wreck his façade. "I haven't thought that far ahead. A few months, maybe. My older brother is lending me his flat in London while he's living in Scotland."

"The others already know?"

"Yeah."

Arms flew around Arthur's neck, pulling him backwards into the other blonde. Alfred rested him forehead on the other's shoulder, hiding his face as his hair flopped over it.

"'_This is something you need to do for yourself_'" He muttered, his voice muffled through Arthur's clothes. "Isn't that what you said that time?" He swivelled the smaller man around, still keeping hold of his shoulders but now locking eye contact with his amazingly emerald eyes. "Wait, you have an older brother?"

Arthur choked out a laugh, letting his hands grip onto the back of Alfred's jacket. "Yes, I do recall saying something like that. And yes, I have four older brothers actually."

"Wow, and I thought it was tough having one brother…" Alfred thought back to his relatively quiet home life, inwardly shuddering at the thought of it suddenly being ambushed by four older versions of him and Matt. "Anyway, there's no need to worry then." He nuzzled into the other's lighter blonde mop, memorising the scent of his (flowery) shampoo. "It's not as if we won't be able to contact each other."

"I suppose."

"Well then there really isn't anything to get worked up about!" Arthur could feel Alfred grinning into his hair, and chuckled in response, knowing full well what the other man was like when his mind was set.

He shivered, realising that he had come outside without any form of outer clothing when something rather large and heavy was slung around his shoulders.

"What're you-?"

"You're cold, right? Why'd you come out without a coat? And they say I'm stupid." Alfred scolded him, wrapping his arm back around the smaller man and guiding him back towards the building. "Come on! Back inside before we _both_ freeze."

* * *

Alfred woke up to the usual blue of his bedroom all in its blurry glory without his glasses. The gap in the curtains let the cool morning light in, showing that it truly was winter now.

He rolled over in the bedcovers, feeling the weight next to him shift as his arm unconsciously drooped over the second person in the bed before pulling the smaller man closer.

Arthur was still very much asleep, snuggled down low under the duvet (yet had still managed to loop one leg around it and tie himself in a knot). He looked peaceful in his slumber, the crease between his large eyebrows disappearing completely. Alfred could see every detail in the man's face even without his glasses with how close they were together.

But this was a scene that he was only just getting used to, and would soon have to learn to be without it again.

The older man murmured in his sleep, opening his eyes rather blearily to see Alfred staring at him. A small smile appeared on his face as he allowed his head to loll forwards and rest on the other's chest, enjoying the extra warmth his body provided.

"Morning." Alfred chuckled, giving Arthur a quick squeeze and pulling the covers further both of them.

"G'morning." Arthur echoed him, sounding as if he was falling asleep again.

"Today's the day, huh?" Alfred sat up, encouraging Arthur to wake up more.

"It is." He refused to move, staying firmly in his place lying across Alfred's lap.

"And a certain Frenchman downstairs will start causing problems if you make him wait when you're the one who practically ordered him to take you to the airport." Alfred nudged him, propping him up on his leg.

"All that frog every does is moan." Arthur scoffed, finally sounding like he was fully awake. He waved a hand in Alfred's direction when he looked like he was going to start talking again. "I'm getting, I'm getting up. The last thing I want is to try and understand that twat's poor excuse of the English language this early in the day."

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes (a gesture which Alfred found adorable but didn't point this out in favour of not being beaten to a bloody pulp by the other man), and moved to find his discarded clothes, removing his pyjama shirt as he did so.

"I'm gonna miss your early morning rants." Alfred laughed from his position sprawled across the bed, watching the Brit get dressed.

"And I'm _not_ going to miss your perverted eyes. Stop _watching_ me!" Arthur whacked him with his jumper before pulling it over his head.

"Hey! It's not as if I can see anything properly!" He grinned, pointing out his lack of glasses.

"Whatever." The Brit huffed, though Alfred could still tell that he was smiling, even if he couldn't see it properly. "Anyway, if you want to come with me to the airport, you'd best be getting ready too. I've still got things to do this morning. Do you want me to make breakfast while you're getting dressed?"

"No!" Alfred recalled the last time Arthur had 'surprised' him with breakfast. It wasn't pleasant memory. "I mean, no, it's alright. I'm not hungry yet." He lied. He was actually starving, but didn't want to hurt the other man's feelings on the day he was leaving.

"You're still the world's worst liar, but okay." Arthur pulled his shoes back on and leant down to talk to the teen, "I'll see you downstairs in a bit."

"Yeah." Alfred tilted his head up, planting a kiss on Arthur's lips (and thoroughly enjoying the resultant blushing), before watching him show himself out of the apartment.

He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten dressed so fast. Alfred had showered and pulled on his jeans and hoodie within a few minutes of Arthur leaving, scoffing down a bowl of cereal in record speed. He could practically hear the older man's voice scolding him for it (_"You'll get indigestion, idiot!"_).

There was a distinct sound of a certain Frenchman shouting from outside the window and a few thumps as something was thrown, causing Alfred to chuckle to himself. He could picture the scene without having to look at what was going on.

He finished up, practically throwing his bowl into the sink (and flinching slightly at the clang it made) before grabbing his bomber jacket and keys and hurtled out of the door, hair still damp.

"You're in a hurry." Kiku caught him on the way out, smiling politely as always. "Seeing him off, are you?"

"Yup." Alfred grinned at the Asian, pulling his jacket on over his hoodie. "How's your brother?"

"Exasperating, as always." The smaller rolled his eyes in the direction of his door, a slight frown appearing on his brows. "You'd best be off. Francis was getting… agitated…"

"Ah, yeah. Right." He scratched the back of his head, laughing lightly. "I'll see you around then."

Upon arriving downstairs, Alfred had been tackled by what at first glance looked like a blonde streak wearing clothes, which, as it turned out, happened to be Peter. Glancing around the boy he could see Tino leaning out of a car window, speaking happily to a rather disgruntled and tired looking Francis, while Arthur loaded his suitcases into the back of the Frenchman's car. He ruffled the small blonde's hair before placing him back on the ground, grinning when he was offered a high-five from him.

He moved over, hefting up the second suitcase and sliding it in next to the first, while Arthur fussed over whether he had everything.

Peter had climbed into the passenger seat of the car, only to be pulled back out by Francis after Tino had driven away again, instead placing him in the back and fastening the seatbelt so that he wouldn't try to move back (although he did anyway).

"Sit in the back with your brother." Francis sighed, ushering Arthur to help him. "You're not going to see each other for while after today, so you need to spend some time with him."

"But-!"

"No buts, Peter." Arthur placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling down at the boy, "C'mon." He closed the boot-lid and climbed into the back of the car with Peter, while Alfred peered back at them from the passenger seat, secretly passing the boy some chocolate to keep him happy.

* * *

The trip to the airport hadn't been what most people would call pleasant. Francis spent most of the time grumbling in French about the traffic (Alfred guessed, he wasn't actually one hundred per cent sure what his landlord was saying), while Arthur and Peter argued about England in the back of the car, mostly about the stories Arthur was telling about his childhood in London with their other siblings. Peter seemed to be jealous about the time Arthur had spent with them, even if the tales were true and they bullied their second youngest brother to no end.

Alfred had resorted to pulling out a pair of headphones and was drowning out the noise with his music, occasionally nodding if a question was passed his way.

Another thing Francis had decided to moan about was the price of parking at the airport and had demanded that Arthur pay for it, which had ended in more fighting between the two before Alfred sought up the courage to break them up (_"For Christ's sake! Can't you two put a lid on it for five minutes?"_).

He took it upon himself to find a trolley for the suitcases just to get away from their bickering, deciding it was better that he hadn't learnt French like Matt had because some of what Francis was saying sounded violent.

It was only when they got inside and Arthur had checked his luggage in that the Frenchman finally fell silent.

"Don't get all sentimental, frog!" Arthur scolded, rolling his eyes at the older man. "I won't be gone forever."

"_That _is why I am upset." Francis's accent was thicker than usual, making it even harder to understand his English. "The prospect of you coming back is simply terrifying, _mon cher_!"

Arthur scoffed, the frown reappearing on his face. "Just make sure you don't sell my room or there really _will_ be something to be scared of."

"Will you two cut it out?" Alfred sighed, leaning on Peter's head, much to the pre-teen's annoyance as he batted him away.

"_Oui_, he is right. Give big brother a farewell hug." Francis took a few steps closer to Arthur, who in turn took several paces backwards.

"Not on your life!"

The Frenchman chuckled, instead ruffling Arthur's hair into an ever messier state. "Tell your brother I say hello."

"Same here!" Peter finally chirped up, bounding forwards and clinging to his brother's waist.

Arthur chuckled, leaning down and placing a hand atop of the boy's head. "Be good for Tino and Berwald, okay? I don't want any complaints when I get back."

"Yeah." He sniffled, wiping his face against Arthur before he was pulled backwards by someone.

"And how come _we_ weren't invited to the leaving party?"

Gilbert glared into Arthur's face before breaking into his usual sly grin. He jerked his head backwards, motioning to Antonio and Lovino, to whom Peter was now complaining loudly about the German.

The Brit chuckled, running a hand through his hair and holding it up in a lazy wave to his other friends, before returning Gilbert's smirk. "I didn't think you could take all this emotional pressure." He clapped the taller man on the shoulder, noting that he no longer flinched at the sudden movement. "All healed up now, then?"

"Good as new. And what do you mean 'emotional pressure'?" He placed his hands on his hips in mock displeasure.

"You'll be causing trouble in no time." Antonio was, as ever, looped over Lovino's shoulders, smiling warmly at the two. "You sure you're going to be alright on your own?"

"I'm not a child." Arthur huffed, but returned the smile. "And my brother will be around some of the time when he's not working up north."

"That's good then." The Spaniard held out his hand, grasping Arthur's and pulling the blonde into a bear hug (much to Lovino's outrage as he ended up sandwiched between the two). "Oops! Sorry Lovi!" He laughed, finally letting go of the Italian. "Make sure you call once in a while. I won't forgive you if you don't."

"Yeah, yeah." Arthur grinned, nodding to Lovino as he turned to leave.

"See ya." He returned the gesture, holding his arm up in a poor excuse for a wave as he and Antonio walked away, stopping only to say goodbye to the others and to shout at the Spaniard (_"For God's sake, you can drive then! Bastard!_").

"See you later, Artie!" Gilbert pressed down on Arthur's head, laughing madly. "Don't piss off your brothers too much, yeah?"

"Git." He pushed him off, shaking the hair back out of his eyes before smiling at the albino. "See you when I get back?"

"Would you expect anything short of a party?"

"Nothing too extravagant, if you please."

"That's the snooty guy we know and love!" Gilbert cackled, thumping Arthur once more before following after Antonio and Lovino. "Later, Artie!"

Arthur watched his friends go, noting that their bikes were parked outside rather than in the car park, and that the German was now having a heated argument with one of the airport's security guards.

"Call to let me know when you're coming back." Francis spoke up again, Peter tucked under his arm.

"I will." He bent down to give his brother another hug, before shooing the two them away. "I just want to talk to Alfred for a minute, alright?"

"Don't take too long." Francis gave him one of his all-knowing smiles, before patting the Brit's arm and guiding Peter towards the doors, leaving Arthur alone with Alfred.

Alfred fidgeted, not sure of what to say to the other man. He hated awkward silences, and this was definitely not helping the whole 'saying goodbye' thing.

"This is it then." Arthur broke the silence, smiling a little sadly up at the taller blonde. He unstrapped his shoulder bag, rummaging inside before pulling out a set of keys. "Look after my flat for me? My bike keys are there too if you want to use it."

"Sure thing." Alfred pocketed them, letting one hand stay lingering on Arthur's, glad for the contact between the two of them.

"Oh come now, buck up." Arthur laughed squeezing the hand, "I'm not dying or anything."

He was suddenly pulled forwards as Alfred rested his head on the smaller man's shoulder, pressing the hand that wasn't clasped in his against Arthur's back so that the gap between them disappeared entirely.

Arthur could feel that other man's breath tickling against his ear and cursed at how much he knew he was blushing. Public shows of affection really weren't his cup of tea.

Alfred let out a long breath, moving his head slightly so that he could speak and only Arthur would be able to hear him. Even the older man's ears were turning scarlet with his growing embarrassment and Alfred had to quickly swallow a laugh or he knew he'd never get the chance to say what he needed to.

Another breath.

"I love you."

It was spoken so quietly that Arthur didn't register what had been said at first, or that was what he told himself anyway. He stood there for a few seconds, his arms fallen limply to his sides, completely unable to digest the words.

Then it twigged in his mind.

Arthur sighed, bringing his arms up to rest on Alfred's shoulders, slapping the man lightly over the back of the head. "Selfish bastard."

Alfred spluttered. That was _not_ the reaction he had hoped for. Sure the returned embrace was nice, but there was no need for a comment like _that_! Wait. Arthur was smiling. Does that mean that he was happy, or that he was, once again, showing his eviler side? "Wha-? What?"

The older man chuckled, leaning his forehead on Alfred's and letting their eyes lock together. "I wanted to say that first."

He smiled, enjoying the pink tinge that had appeared on the teen's face (although he knew that his own face was equally as red). Alfred had taken to opening and closing his mouth in a similar fashion to a fish, completely lost for what to say until he felt the grip around his neck tighten as he was pulled forwards.

Their lips met gently, giving Alfred time to realise what was happening. It was soft, and if not anything else, held more emotion than any of their previous times.

Arthur felt Alfred grin into the kiss as he returned it, deepening it as he took control. Then he caught sight of the clock on the wall.

"I've got to go." He pulled away, his sad smile returning. "I'll call you when I get there?"

"You'd better." Alfred squeezed the smaller man one last time before letting him go.

Arthur took a few steps away before turning back, scratching his head as he thought of what to say. "That- That was a one off, okay? I'm not one for public shows of affection. But you should know that already. Just bare it in mind for when I get back, okay?"

Alfred laughed, seeing the Brit's cheeks flush again. "Love you too."

He turned away again, this time only glancing over his shoulder to speak. "Oh, and Alfred, you really _are_ dense."

He grinned (knowing he looked like a fool for it) and turned the corner, leaving the spluttering man behind as he headed for the plane.

* * *

**Notes:**

This is the second to last chapter guys!

I can't believe this is actually happening now (or that I was able to right so much on so little in this chapter... or that's what it feels like anyway). I've actually already written the final chapter, so for me this has actually ended now.

Anyway, I've gotten a good lot of people asking what happened to Ivan and to be honest, at first I didn't want to tell anyone. But then I decided to be nice, so you'll find out in the next chapter.  
This one was surprisingly hard to write, so be nice people!  
I'll decide when to be nice and post up the last chapter soon =P

(Also, to **natcat5**: you'll have to wait and see what happens in the next chapter!)

I've never really thanks you guys for all the reviews I get, so I'll do that now. **Thank yoooou!**

They really do make me smile. I love hearing what you all think! ^-^**  
**


	19. 19 Phonecalls and Letters FINAL

**What's in a Name**

_Chapter 19 [Final]_

_

* * *

_

"Hey, you've reached the awesome Alfred F. Jones! I'm out doing something heroic right now so leave your message after the beep, okay?"

"_Al? What is _wrong _with your answerphone message? It's probably one of the stupidest things-!_"

"WAIT! Wait, I'm here! Don't hang up!" The voice cut him off, panting and sounding half asleep.

"_Alfred? About time, I told you I'd call._" Arthur scoffed down the phone at the appearance of the American's voice.

"It's two in the morning!" Alfred yawned.

"_Shit! Sorry!_" Arthur swore, "_I forgot about the time difference! Did I wake you?_"

"Nah. I only just got into bed. What's up?"

"_Well, I just wanted to say that I've arrived. I'm sorry; I really didn't mean to call so late. These long flights really mess with my head; I can never remember which way I have to change my watch. Guess I got it wrong._"

"That's okay." He yawned again. "It's not like I didn't want you to call. How's England?"

"_Wet._" Arthur groaned, "_I should've known that it would be raining. It's bloody _December_! Other than that it's okay. A bit chilly, but nothing I can't handle. London's grown a bit since I was nine._" He chuckled.

Another voice sounded down the line, a bit gruffer than Arthur's.

"Who was that?"

"_Eurgh. My brother."_ He sighed and sounded as though he'd placed his hand over the receiver before yelling away from the phone. "_Sorry, I should let you sleep. Phone you again soon?_"

"Yeah." Alfred shifted under the bed covers, getting more comfortable on the pillow.

"_Okay then. Good night."_

"Night, Arthur."

* * *

_Dear Alfred,_

_Just because I accidently called you at some God forsaken hour in the morning, does NOT mean you have to do the same for me just to spite me. (I don't care if it was Gilbert's idea, you didn't have to actually do it.)_

_Anyway, I'm writing because it's easier to tell you my address this way. You never seem to understand what people are telling you over the phone properly, so I thought that this way would prove to be a better solution than me shouting at you._

_(The address is on the card enclosed with this letter – don't throw it away or you'll forget it!)_

_I've managed to get a job at the local GP's office while I'm staying here. It means that I won't have to depend on my brother to buy the food. Besides, he's moved back up to Scotland this weekend for his work. Git, just up and leaving me to get sorted by myself. I didn't even know where the local shops were until I had walked around the streets several times._

_How are the others getting on? Is Peter alright with Tino and Berwald? William said I should have brought him home with me, but that would have just been impractical with his school and everything. (William's my brother, by the way.)_

_Gil's not causing too much trouble at work is he? He always seems to be able to annoy Elizabeta to no end._

_Also, I hope you're not skipping out on your college course. I managed to go and see the Globe Theatre the other day while I was walking around. That _actual_ Globe! It was incredible! I wish you could have seen it with me!_

_Stay well, Al._

_I'm sending some Christmas presents along with this for next week. I hope these all get there in time for it._

_Love,_

_Arthur._

_

* * *

_

"_Hello?_"

"Hi Artie!"

"_Hi Alfred. Don't call me that._"

"Aww, lighten up man! It's Christmas!"

"_Yes._" Arthur smiled, sliding down so that he was more comfortable in his chair. "_Merry Christmas._"

"You too! You should feel the buzz here, Arthur! Francis is throwing a massive party!"

"_That sounds… interesting…_"

Alfred laughed, "I know what you're thinking, and yeah I kinda suspect it too, but it's better than going back home. I don't think I could stand mom's dried out turkey again."

"_Fair enough._"

"So what've you been up to? It's been Christmas there for five more hours than it has here!"

"_Well, we've already eaten and well… argued… but that isn't any different than any other time of the year._"

"Wait, we?"

"_Yeah, my brothers and I. Will's back down from Scotland until the New Year and Edward's come over from Wales for the next couple of days._"

"Oooh. Cool."

"_Did you get the present I sent?_"

"Sure did! It's awesome! Where did you find it?"

"_In a little shop around the corner from me, it sells all kinds of things. I got Peter's in there too. Did he like his?_"

Alfred turned to look at the pre-teen, who was, once again, arguing with Gilbert over something or another. "He hasn't taken it off since he unwrapped it. It's kinda cute really. He looks like a little sailor."

There was some shouting from Alfred's end of the line, followed by Gilbert's manic laughter.

"Apparently Peter doesn't like being called cute…"

"_Are you surprised? He _is_ my brother._"

"Did you like my present?"

"_It hasn't arrived yet. The post has been up the creek again over here. Strikes and whatnot. It's ridiculous, really. Fancy striking around the holiday times, bloody idiots._"

"I swear you've gotten _more_ British since you left."

"_Well what do you expect? Of course my accent's going to get stronger when I'm back over here. Wait- you can still understand me alright, can't you?_"

"Well I don't know what some of the stuff you're saying means, but you're still speaking English. It's better than what Francis is like anyway." There was another loud thump and what sounded like Alfred dropping the phone and then scrambling to pick it up again.

"_What was that?_"

"Francis threw his Christmas present at me."

"_Which one?_"

"The rather large book you sent him."

Arthur grumbled, and Alfred could just picture the glare the Brit was telepathically sending the Frenchman. "_Tell him he's a git from me._"

"Will do."

"_Do you mind if I talk to Peter for a bit? The other two want to have words with him as well._"

"Sure thing, I'll go and get him ."

"_Thanks. Oh and Al?_"

"Yeah?"

"_Merry Christmas, love._"

Alfred chuckled, searching the room for where Peter had disappeared to. "Yeah, Happy Christmas, Arthur."

* * *

Arthur,

Oh my God! You won't believe the party we had! It was awesome! (I hope this hasn't got lost in the mail too.)

First off, Mattie came over. He's staying with me for the rest of the winter vacation. He said that mom was getting annoying again. He showed up a little bit after we got off the phone to you.

It's weird, even with his crutch he can still get around like you wouldn't believe! I got a little bit worried actually; Gil kept following him around and _flirting_! Well if he thinks he can get his hands on my little bro then he's got another thing coming!

Both Gil and Lovino brought their brothers along. Is it me, or is Ludwig really strict for a younger brother? I thought he was older than Gil at first! Feliciano was funny. He spent a while complaining because the dinner didn't include pasta. He might look like Lovino but they're completely different (except for maybe the tomato thing. Is that Antonio's fault? He dotes on both of them.)!

Anyway, Francis got all drunk and ended up stripping (like we all knew he would!). At one point he disappeared and when he came back there was some chick draped over his arm (we still don't know who she was). Don't worry though, we managed to get Peter out of the way before all of that happened and Liza made sure that Francis got what was coming to him (she hit him with a frying pan I think).

I'm writing this from my sofa. I should probably be sleeping, but it's not the most comfortable place in the world (Matt's using the bed because of his leg).

I hope you don't mind, but I did take you up on the offer of using your bike. Not much though! Me and Antonio went around to deliver Peter's thank you cards for him (that and I wanted to show off your present! Seriously Artie, it looks exactly like my old jacket! I still can't believe it!). Were you the one who taught Peter to always write thank you cards when he gets presents?

Has my present got to you yet?

I wanna know what you think of it.

Oh yeah! I'm writing instead of phoning this time because I thought I'd be all proper about this. You know? All that formal stuff. You like that kind of thing, right? I bet I'm doing a really bad job of it though.

Happy New Year!

Phone or write back soon, yeah?

From your hero!

Alfred.

* * *

_Alfred,_

_Happy New Year to you too. Have you made your resolutions?_

_Who taught you how to write a letter?_

_Still I suppose it was quite entertaining to read._

_That frog better not have made a bad impression on Peter, or I might just have to kill him. Idiot. Thank Liza for me, will you?_

_Also, say hello to Matthew for me. If Gilbert gives him any trouble then feel free to beat the wanker up. Though I know that you would anyway, which is definitely a good thing. Still, I find it hard to imagine you being the protective big brother, you've always seemed so laid back. (Dense, remember?)_

_I hope it's not too uncomfortable sleeping on your sofa. Though I suppose it _is_ better for Matt to sleep on the bed. I can't imagine what he has to go through with his leg. It's awful. My heart goes out to you both._

_I don't mind you using my bike, I _did_ offer, after all._

_And it was my mother who taught Peter to always write thank you cards. She was always polite that way and did the same thing herself. I find it quite sweet that Peter still keeps it up, though I suppose he won't for much longer. He is growing up after all. He'll be thirteen next year._

_Now, on the topic of your present:_

_I love it._

_How you managed to get it delivered undamaged is beyond me, Alfred, but it's here. I've been using it already, actually. My brother's scoffed at me about it, but that's their problem. And let me tell you, good English tea tastes the best when it's served in a proper cup and saucer from a good tea pot. (You must be laughing your head off while reading this, but it's true. What impression did I give off for you to come to the conclusion of giving me a tea set for Christmas is still mystery to me.)_

_I've been out here for nearly a month now but I'm only just getting used to being back in London. It's so different from being in our little town. The only green is in the parks, which is nice, but they can be quite a trek away if I want to truly relax._

_Work's different too._

_They've got me working at the reception because I don't have any _proper_ training. They don't deliver medicine to their patients here apart from in special cases; they have to pick it up themselves. It's quite boring if I am perfectly honest. But it's money nonetheless._

_I hope all is well with you._

_I will speak with you soon._

_Arthur._

_

* * *

_

"_You've reached Arthur Kirkland. I can't answer my phone right now. Leave a message at the tone._"

"Hi, Arthur. It's Al. I need to be quick, I should be in class and Felicks is starting to moan at me again. But I thought I should tell you. They caught Braginski. Well, I say 'they', it was actually Mattie! Turns out the bastard has been following him ever since then, but didn't make any moves until yesterday. I still don't know all the details and I'll let you know when I do, but from what I heard Matt managed to pull some awesome move on him before the cops came along and arrested him! He's totally my little brother alright! Anyway, there's going to be a court case and everything and they've already got us all being witnesses. It's going to be a big trial. Anyway, I've got class. Talk to you later. Bye!"

* * *

"_What happened?_"

Alfred groaned, the memory of the trial was not pleasant. "Well it started off all calm, and it looked like he was going to cooperate, but then he was called and he kinda went crazy."

"_Crazy?_"

"Y'know, like lashing out at people and stuff."

"_Oh my God! Was everyone okay?_"

"Yeah." He sighed, rubbing his temples. "He got taken away after that and the trial had to carry on without him. Natalia got sentenced pretty quickly. Three years, I think she got. Braginski got seven, taking everything into account."

"_That's outrageous!_" Arthur yelled down the handset, hearing Alfred flinch on the other end. "_Sorry. But still! He tried to kill your brother! He set fire to the house while we and his sisters were _inside_! Have they got no sense? What about all the people he hurt?_"

"At least he's been put away. They took away his licence too, but I bet that won't stop him from riding, even if his bike was confiscated. Apparently he's going to get monitored, tagged or something, I dunno."

"_You sound exhausted._"

"Yeah. Well it's been pretty draining, I guess."

"_You didn't get in trouble did you?_"

"No, no. I haven't done anything wrong since three years ago, they said. Even if I did practically break into that house and get into a fight. The others were all fine too. Most of the gang members who were there got off saying that they'd been intimidated into joining and doing what Braginski told them to do. There were a few who got short sentences, but nothing major."

"_That's fine then._"

"You didn't get a mention, so don't worry about that either."

"_Oh. Well, that's good I suppose._"

"It was actually Matt who got the most attention for catching the bastard. It was _amazing_ Arthur! I mean, if you take Mattie's disability into account. Apparently Braginski tried to jump him and Matt hit him flat in the face with his crutch! I think one of Matt's friends was there too and helped out a bit, but Matt did most of it! Man, I never thought my little bro would turn out to be so awesome!"

"_He's okay then?_"

"Yeah, he's good. Back living with mom again. She's getting all prissy about him graduating this year 'cause he wants to move out. She's _way_ too protective over him! The guy just caught the gang leader who's been giving the cops a run for their money for over three years and she still thinks he can't look after himself. She's mad."

"_I guess she wants to look after him while she still can._"

"Maybe." Alfred yawned, the events of the last few days finally catching up with him. "As long as she doesn't start nagging at me. I get enough of that from you."

"_Oi! I'm trying to be sympathetic over here!_"

He laughed, "There's the Arthur I know and love. Listen, I'm pretty beat so I'm gonna go. I've got an afternoon class that I need to be awake for or Toris is going to go crazy. Talk to you later."

Arthur sighed, smiling into the handset. "_Alright, love. Take care._"

* * *

"_Alfred, what the hell have you sent me?_"

He could hear him laughing down the phone and felt like throwing it across the room.

"_I've never been so embarrassed in my life! My brother answered the door to it!_"

"You mean you didn't like them?"

"_That's not the point, git! Do you have any idea what I had to put up with after they arrived? Where on earth did you find the number for that place anyway?_"

"Internet." Alfred was much too calm for his liking. "Oh, come _on_, Arthur! It's Valentine's! Did you really expect me not to send you anything?"

"_I didn't expect what looks like an entire rose bush to turn up at my brother's flat!_"

"It's not an entire rose bush! I thought you liked roses. Besides, I didn't want to just send a card. That's would've been lame!"

This was really starting to give him a headache. "_Look, Al, it's not that I don't like them, because they're beautiful, really. I just feel like… well… I feel like you're treating me like some girl._"

Argh! Damn that came out worse than it should have.

He could hear Alfred shifting uncomfortably on the other end of the phone.

"You're not some girl." Was the response after a long pause. "And I've never thought of you like that either."

"_Oh. Well that's good then._"

"Did you read the card that was with the flowers?"

"_There was a card?_"

"Should've been."

"_Hang on a second._" There was some rustling then Arthur's voice reappeared. "_Found it. Want me to read it now?_"

"Wait until we're done talking."

"_...Did I upset you?_"

"Well it wasn't exactly the reaction I was expecting."

"_Sorry._"

"It doesn't matter."

"_I should've sent you something._"

"Don't worry about it. Hey, Arthur, I've got some stuff to do. That I've got to make sure Gil's not trying to pull any moves on Mattie again. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"_Okay. Look, Al, I really am-_"

He had already hung up.

* * *

Dear Arthur,

Happy Valentine's Day!

I hope these found you alright. I bought them from a shop I looked up on the internet. It's a nice little place that near to your address (their name's on the card apparently), you should check them out.

I wanted to do this properly, but seeing as you're on the other side of the ocean, that's a bit hard, right?

Anyway, it's our first Valentine's together. (That still looks strange to me. Guess it's because we haven't seen each other in ages!) So I wanted to do something a bit romantic.

I asked Francis but he just came out with a load of stupid French stuff that sounded lewd, so I didn't take any notice.

Anyway, I know you like roses, so I bought a whole bunch of them. Red ones are the romantic ones, right? I did get that right didn't I?

I really hope you like them!

(If not, then sorry…)

What I'm trying to say in all this is that I love you Arthur. I know we don't say it to each other very often (or at all), but I really do.

Even though you're over there and I'm still stuck here at college I'm still thinking of you (the others tease me about it enough). I'm probably the world's worst romantic, but I'm going to try my best for you, even if I end up looking like a complete idiot. I wish more than anything right now that you could be here with me, but that would be wrong for me to push anything on you. So until you're ready to come back I'll send you my support in any way I can, starting with these.

I love you Arthur.

Yours forever,

Alfred.

* * *

"Hey, you've reached the awesome Alfred F. Jones! I'm out doing something heroic right now so leave your message after the beep, okay?"

"_Alfred you bloody idiot answer your phone!_" He yelled down the receiver, fed up for the life of him with Alfred's answerphone message. "_I read the card and I'm sorry! Okay? Jesus Christ. Look, I don't know what to say when it's just me talking, it makes things much too awkward. And just because I had a go at you before doesn't mean I'm still mad now! Fucking hell, answer the phone, git!_"

He sighed, running his hand through his hair in a futile attempt to calm down.

"_I'm sorry Al. I shouldn't have said all that stuff before. I was stupid and didn't look at the full picture. What I said… I didn't mean it. I was just surprised that a giant bunch of flowers turned up on the doorstep and then I had to deal with my brother mocking me about it. Argh! I'm just making excuses! Look, the fact is that I'm sorry. You know how bad I am at this kind of thing. What you said in that card, it was so sweet of you. All of that romance stuff, even if you make a hash of it, I'll always appreciate it. You were right, roses are my favourite, and how you can remember all of those little kinds of things about me I don't know. I wish I was there with you as well. God knows I do. Just please don't ignore me. I can't stand it. But if you want me to leave you alone for now then I will. It's always going to be hard for me to express thus sort of thing Alfred, but please believe me. I do love you. Even if I don't say it, please remember that._"

* * *

"So did you get it?"

"_Hello to you too._"

"Yeah, yeah. Did you get it?"

"_Yes, Alfred. I got it._"

He cheered so loud that Arthur had to hold the phone away from his ear.

"So do you like it?"

"_You sound like a five year old._"

"Oh come on, Arthur! At least sound a bit more excited!"

"_I'll sound excited when I feel like it. But yes, I do indeed like it. Actually, I rather love it._"

There was another cheer.

"_Can you stop that? I feel like I'm going deaf._"

"Sorry. I just wasn't sure whether you'd actually like it."

"_When was it taken?_"

"The day you left. Francis only just decided to tell me that he'd taken it."

"_I'm not sure I like the idea of that frog taking photos of us when we're not paying attention._"

"I'm just glad he finally gave it to me."

"_I bet the other's all got a flash of it first._"

"Who cares if they did? It's not as if we don't have enough stuff to blackmail them all with."

"_True._"

Alfred was silent for a few seconds before speaking again. "You've been away for five months now."

"_Yeah. It feels longer though. Especially if it keeps raining like this._"

"I thought it always rains in England."

"_Not all the time! It's expected to be a hot summer this year. Not that that means anything._"

"Well, if it's any consolation, it's been raining here too."

"_Good to know._"

"Oh! Peter wants to talk to you."

"_He's there?_"

"Yup, I still pick him up from school you know. Just to keep him out of Tino and Berwald's hair until they finish work."

"_That's nice. I'm glad that they're all doing well._"

"They're always asking about you. You should ring them once in a while too."

"_I'll make a note of it._"

"Well, I'll hand you over then."

"_Alright then._"

"Arthur?"

"_Hm?_"

"Happy Birthday."

"_Thanks, love. Talk to you soon._"

* * *

Arthur,

I feel like we haven't spoken in a while now. It's really weird, thinking about it. You've been away for, what, half a year now?

It feels so much longer though!

Tino threw a birthday party for Berwald the other day. (He said thanks for the card by the way.) Francis ended up under Liza's constant watch. She doesn't let him drink at our parties anymore after what happened at Christmas.

Peter brought one of his friends from school. I think her name was Lilli. It turned out that her older brother, Vash, already knew Roderich, funny huh? They argued for half the night!

I've finished college for the year now. Seems like only yesterday when I started here (which kinda contradicts the whole feeling like you've been gone forever thing). Felicks said that I've been weird since day one so I probably failed the exams, but Toris thinks that they went okay for all of us. Felicks is just annoyed because it's not just him and Toris at college anymore.

I'm trying to get a job now. Tino said that I could have one at the surgery if I wanted but I kinda want to strike out on my own, you know? I want to know that I can actually do something by myself.

How's stuff going for you?

Your brother isn't bullying you is he?

I forgot to say before that someone's moved into the flat opposite yours. He's this Greek guy called Heracles (I think). I see him talking to Kiku quite a lot so I think they get on or something. There's this other guy living with him too, dunno what his name is though. He's weird though, goes around wearing a mask. All I ever hear him doing is arguing with Heracles. It's annoying really but kinda reminds me of you and Francis fighting (I sound like an old man).

Hey, Arthur, when you get back I'm going to treat you to something. Whatever you want (so long as I can afford it). It's kinda lonely now that I don't see anyone at college anymore and that Peter's living with Tino and Berwald. I meet up with Kiku and we play video games sometimes, but it's not like when we all used to go round and crash at yours.

(Actually, I caught Gil trying to get into your apartment the other day. I think he was running away from his brother again… Antonio and Lovino showed up after that to get him to go back home. It was weird.)

I go and sit in there sometimes. (I keep it clean, don't worry.) You don't mind do you?

Oh yeah. Matt finished school as well. He's going to come and live with me next year so he can come to college here. Turns out mom got a new boyfriend somewhere and started getting even more controlling than she used to be. She stopped looking after him properly. Dad actually came and intervened for once, so Mattie's staying with him until September.

I'm not going to ask you to come back, Arthur. That wouldn't be very heroic of me. Still, I miss you and I want to see you. So even if you're away for another six months or whatever, I'll wait for you to come home.

Love,

Alfred.

* * *

He slumped back in his sofa, covering his still unbelievably blue eyes with one hand. It was stupid how long it had taken him to write that letter. Why was it so damn difficult to say one little thing? Let alone post it!

_Argh!_ It was too early in the morning to worry about these kinds of things. Maybe another couple of hours of sleep would clear his head.

Alfred stood up, rubbing his eyes under his glasses and draining the last few drops of coffee from his mug. He thought he heard a car door slamming outside, but was too worn out to pay it any mind. Even if he didn't sleep, just the lie down would do him some good.

He was just about making his way to his bedroom when someone knocked hard on his door. Really, who called this early on a Sunday morning?

If it was Francis again then he swore he was going to punch the French bastard square on the nose.

He yawned, turning on his heel to open the door, preparing himself to confront his landlord. He had no right to come knocking and demand things from him when there was sleeping to be done.

He yanked on the handle, glaring at the opening space into the corridor. "Francis, I'm not in the mood for- oh…"

"You know, for once I think I should thank the frog."

Arthur was standing in the doorway, leaning on his soaked umbrella, proud smile fixed on his face. His hair was complete drenched and dripping down his face, the occasional drop catching in his abnormally large eyebrows. But his eyes still shone the brightest emerald.

"After all," He held up a slightly soggy looking piece of paper, his smile widening slightly, "he was able to save this before it got sent all the way to England. And my brother would have a field day if he read what you wrote in this."

Alfred stared at the man in front of him. Arthur was back? He blinked, thinking for a second that he was dreaming, but no, Arthur was still there when he opened his eyes again.

"What are you doing, git? You look like you've seen a ghost. Although that can't be true, you're not screaming yet." He chuckled, flashing his pirate-like grin at the younger boy before being pulled forwards suddenly.

They vaguely heard the umbrella fall to the floor with a wet clack. Arthur was soaking wet, but Alfred didn't care. He just wanted to hold the man in his arms and prove to himself that he was really there.

Arthur's arms were wrapped around his neck, letting his fingers rope through the taller man's hair as the gap between them vanished completely. He allowed himself to be lifted off the ground slightly by Alfred, though the action was an awkward one, until their eyes were level with each other.

The kiss was sweet and something that they had both longed for since that day at the airport six months previously. It had been so long that Alfred could barely remember the warmth of the other man's mouth when they melted together. But he had always remembered the feel of holding Arthur, the strength that he held in his lean body, even if he was smaller.

When they finally broke apart the grin returned to Alfred's face, lightening up his features, the tiredness he had felt ten minutes before completely disappearing.

"Hello to you too." He hummed, remembering one of the Brit's greetings. "You didn't tell me you were coming back."

"I wanted to surprise you." Arthur chuckled, picking up his things and following Alfred into the apartment. "So, what was all this about treating me when I got back?"

"Err, well yeah. I thought that we could go out and do something nice, you know?" Alfred felt he face heat up slightly at the reference to the now slightly crinkled letter in Arthur's hand.

"Hmm? Well, I suppose that would be nice." The Brit breathed out a laugh, noting the pink tinge to Alfred's cheeks. "But for now, I think I need some rest. I've just got off an aeroplane _and_ I'm living five hours ahead of your right now. My body clock is broken."

"Fair enough." He followed Arthur to the sofa, falling onto it after him. The smaller man leant over slightly, resting his head on Alfred's shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Oh, and by the way." He spoke quietly, his exhaustion starting to show through.

"Yeah?"

"I missed you too, Al."

Alfred glanced down at Arthur, seeing the peaceful look on the older man's face. He smiled, pressing a kiss to his sandy blonde hair before gently leaning his head against the messy mop of hair.

Yeah. He was back, alright.

-End-

* * *

**[A/N:** So this is it. This last chapter.  
I would've put this up sooner, but I've just moved into my student accommodation for University and _did_ want to get the first chapter of my new fic up first, but I'm not close to finishing that yet, so I thought I'd be nice and put this up first. ^-^  
It's kinda sad seeing this all come to an end. I'll miss this AU now that it's done.

Look out for the new fic, ne? =D**]  
**


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